


She Longed to Burn

by I Must Defend Edelgard (IMustDefendEdelgard)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (Hahaha that was a pun), F/M, Graphic descriptions of violence, I know nobody wants that last one but I have to tell my truth, Male My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Time Skip, Sex eventually, Slow Burn, Third Person Edelgard POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-10-17 14:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20622758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMustDefendEdelgard/pseuds/I%20Must%20Defend%20Edelgard
Summary: From behind her mask, Edelgard von Hresvelg gazed at her sensei.The mask was heavy, but it achieved its purpose almost perfectly. Its porcelain gave no hint to the cracks lurking right under the skin. Even though she was sick to her stomach, plagued by a terror that had been striking with renewed force ever since she had learned of what the monster with her uncle's face was doing in Remire village, it held. Not a hair shifted, nor the corner of an eyebrow or eyelid twitched. She would not allow it.





	1. The First Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> I've been kicking this idea back in forth in my head for a while now. I'm hoping that writing this will help exorcise my obsession with this game and these characters but it will probably have the opposite effect.
> 
> I've mixed the Japanese and English versions here, most especially when it comes to Edelgard's use of the Japanese sensei in place of Professor. Ai Kakuma will always be the real voice of Edelgard to me.
> 
> The other big instance of that is that I reference the Japanese version of Edelgard and Byleth's C-support, where instead of saying "I felt restless" Byleth says he showed up for Yobai. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yobai We stan a perverted King (or Queen, if you prefer the female version, because she'll say the same thing).

From behind her mask, Edelgard von Hresvelg gazed at her sensei.

The mask was heavy, but it achieved its purpose almost perfectly. Its porcelain gave no hint to the cracks lurking right under the skin. Even though she was sick to her stomach, plagued by a terror that had been striking with renewed force ever since she had learned of what the monster with her uncle's face was doing in Remire village, it held. Not a hair shifted, nor the corner of an eyebrow or eyelid twitched. She would not allow it.

Her sensei did not see her. He sat under the monastery's gazebo, his eyes closed, his face as blank and neutral as ever. What he was thinking about, Edelgard had no more of an idea than she normally did. His mask was even better than hers. It had become something of an obsession to try and figure out what thoughts drifted under its surface, to very limited success. Early on, she had entertained the thought that perhaps there was no mask, that his face simply reflected an emptiness, a lack of inner life. Hubert, disturbed by the distraction Byleth presented, had tried to convince her of this: that the man who had saved her life was nothing more than a killing machine, truly the Ashen Demon that the rumors about him had described.

But Edelgard had never really believed this. From the second she had laid eyes on her sensei, there had been a spark between them that would have been impossible if he were truly empty. And the humor... He could be so deadpan, eyes staring at you with what looked like blankness, when he let slip some simple joke that revealed not only how much he was actually paying attention beneath that mask, but also the surprising irony and wit he possessed.

That line of thought brought a memory unbidden to her mind.

“_Sensei?! What are you doing here?”_ she'd asked that night he'd shown up at her door. It had been a stupid question with an obvious answer: clearly, he'd heard her cry out from her nightmare of rats and chains and dungeons. She regretted asking before the words had even left her lips, hated anytime she showed weakness or indecision in front of that man in particular. Hated asking any question of him that held no purpose.

But he hadn't embarrassed her by explaining the obvious. No, he took that moment to reveal that infuriatingly ironic wit of his. To embarrass her far, far more. “_Yobai.”_ Nightcrawling. Sex. He'd come there for sex. Sex with her. The idea of that, of him desiring her, of his throwing all proper decorum and caution to the winds and coming right out and saying he wanted to _be_ with her, had caused a heat to spread across her chest and pool in her belly. It had caused a shock of crimson to spread across her face at the same time: the one weakness of her mask, it's inconvenient tendency to display the emotion she most wanted to hide. Byleth had sought that crimson out on purpose, she knew it.

She jolted out of her reverie and back into the present as she realized with a panic that that same heat was spreading across her face again. Her eyes snapped back into focus and to her sensei. Luckily, _his_ eyes were still closed. She didn't know what she'd have done if he'd opened them and seen her watching him like she was some kind of blushing school girl with an unrequited crush.

Because she most definitely was _not _that, she told herself. She was Her Imperial Highness, heir to a dynasty over a millennia old. More than that, she was the Flame Emperor. It was she who would reforge the world. She spun around and marched into the dining hall, hoping a little distance would clear her head.

It did not have the intended effect. It was early in the mid-afternoon so the hall was mostly empty, but the smell of cooking food assaulted her senses as soon as she came in from the outdoors, instantly triggering her nausea all over again. She hadn't been able to keep anything down all day, and she felt the saliva build in her mouth in a way that heralded yet another round of vomiting. She gripped a nearby chair to steady herself, feeling her knuckles go white to match the silk gloves that hid them. Her eyes screwed shut.

The monster with her uncle's face swam into her vision again. What was he _really_ doing in Remire? That place she had almost destroyed in her stupidity, that place where her sensei had saved her in more than one way.

Hubert's voice intruded on her thoughts. As usual, she hadn't seen or heard him come in. How did a man so tall move so silently, she asked herself not for the first time. “Lady Edelgard. You look unwell. Is it because of what happened?”

She snapped up, biting down on the annoyance that flared up in her. Hubert meant well, but she did not need him doting on her right now. She was grateful that she'd been alone in her room, this last weekend when she'd collapsed. If he'd seen that, she never would have heard the end of it.

“Don't speak of it aloud,” she said, keeping her voice neutral, as if they were discussing the weather or the coming week's homework. While the place was mostly empty, there were still a few students loitering about between classes. “I'm fine,” she added.

Hubert, apparently, did not believe her. “You can't change the past,” he said, not unkindly. “For now, all we can do is use it to our advantage.”

The annoyance welled up in her again. So like him to look for angles and benefits to the crimes of those people who slithered in the shadows. Unlike him, she could not eat her guilt so easily.

“I know that,” she said, managing with great effort to keep that fake, even tone. “I also know I must steel myself to ascend the Imperial throne.” It was risky, perhaps, raising that conversation here in this public place, but she desperately wanted to talk about anything else but Remire.

It worked. “Those preparations are going well. We-” he suddenly stiffened. “Someone's coming.”

She turned to see Byleth walk into the dining hall, his meditation apparently done. Her stomach, already churning, flipped unpleasantly. Had he heard anything?

“Sensei_,_” she said, her mask betraying nothing. He bowed his head in silent greeting. “I heard about our mission for the month. Something terrible is happening in Remire Village.” Her sensei nodded, his eyebrow knotting. Looking at him now, she realized he looked even more pale than usual. Could he also...? “That's where you were when fate sent you our way. This feels preordained.”

She thought back to that day, to her sensei throwing himself in front of the axe meant for her, the axe following an order she herself had given. That was a source of both fear of and attraction to the young man in front of her, and the conflict there threatened to undo her. She felt the edges of the mask slicken with the barest glint of perspiration, start to give way.

Hubert saved her. “Are the knights making progress with their investigation?” Her adviser already knew the answer to this question, and far more detail about the disaster than the knights could ever hope to. But it distracted her sensei, for a moment at least, as he stopped to explain what he'd learned. As always, he was economical with his words, succinct but not terse.

“They have. Many villagers show symptoms of madness. Manuela is convinced these are magical in origin. There is no violence yet, but the knights are keeping watch. We must go to the village ourselves soon.”

It was enough respite to recover. His voice helped calm her, helped her smooth out the edges to her rattled composure. Hubert, however, decided now was the time to rattle it again.

“If what is happening there is by design, there must be someone pulling the strings.” Hubert's voice had never sounded more oily to her. “There is the Death Knight, of course. And the mysterious mages who were implicated in the Western Church. They showed up when Flayn was kidnapped as well. And now there is another strange occurrence near the monastery... It seems an unknown organization hopes to make this beloved place its stage for something.”

One message to her sensei, another to her. _This man is not to be trusted. He will investigate what is happening and discover the truth. He will find your hand in all these incidents. He will hate you. He will try to kill you_. He had said this openly to her in private, and seemed to relish the opportunity to say it, though guardedly, in front of the subject of his speculations.

The future Margrave von Vestra must think her a coward. He must think that at the slightest opposition, she would turn tail and run away. He must think it would be so easy to divide her from her sensei. He thought wrong. She was Edelgard von Hresvelg, and she ran from nothing. She decided to call his bluff.

“Do you believe that all of these incidents are connected, sensei?” The answer to this question, too, was obvious, but this time she had a purpose.

Byleth's eyes shifted from Hubert's to hers. She'd gotten better at reading him over these past months, but what she thought saw there now threw any confidence she had at divining his mood out the window. He looked almost... amused?

“I take it you do not?” he asked, and her confusion only grew.

“I-” she felt her mouth flop open like a fish's as she struggled to find her composure. She'd braced herself for him to confirm Hubert's suspicions, maybe hoped deep down that somehow he'd see her side of things, perhaps hoped more than she wished to admit, but this... “Yes, sensei. I don't know how you knew, but yes I am-” she considered her words carefully- “skeptical. While it certainly appears that all of the events surrounding the monastery are connected by a single thread. I think it's possible that it may just be a result of different motives overlapping.”

“And you, Hubert, disagree?” her sensei asked, his gaze returning to her covertly rebellious servant. Byleth seemed to be treating this topic as if it were a question that had come up in lecture that he'd decided to open up to the class. _Lindhart, what do you think the advantage of fire magic in this situation would be? Dorothea, how would you counter the fliers in the diagram on page 237? Hubert, how would you best convince me that your mistress was my enemy?_ It unnerved her.

“I simply see no logical reason why we should assume there is more than one actor involved here, given what we know,” Hubert said, not missing a beat.

“I see. And you, Edelgard?”

A thought occurred to her. There was a line Hubert had used, years ago, when he had barely convinced her that they could use the monster who wore her uncle's face and his slithering friends, that seemed appropriate now with a little adaptation. She suppressed a sly smile as she met Hubert's gaze. “If you only think of people as simply enemies or friends, it may be impossible to grasp the truth.”

She could see Hubert's jaw work silently at that. He'd used the word “victory” in place of “truth”, but the sentiment was the same. And they both knew she was right. “That is a platitude, Lady Edelgard. And not a very convincing one.”

“Perhaps,” Byleth said. “Though I've never heard it before. But either way, Hubert, how do you account for the disunity of our enemies?”

“I- don't know what you mean, Professor,” Hubert responded cautiously.

“Jeritza, in the Holy Tomb, for one. He seemed quite contemptuous of those mages, and of their orders. If he had fought us instead of sitting there, they might have gotten away with the Sword of the Creator.

Hubert did not give in. It seemed to have become a point of pride for him. “Jeritza always seemed contemptuous of everyone. That he would be as insubordinate to his true masters as he was to the faculty and students here came as no huge surprise to me.”

“He seemed to obey the Flame Emperor.” As he said this, her sensei's eyes flicked back to meet hers. She felt her heart stop. _Reveal nothing_. _Breathe normally. Not a sign._ “If he hadn't intervened in the Catacombs, Flayn very well may have died by the time we drove Jeritza off ourselves.”

“Those are... good points, sensei,” she managed, silently relieved at his use of the male pronoun. _He did not know_. He couldn't. Could he?

“Regardless, the truth will reveal itself in time,” Byleth said, bringing the discussion to a close. It took her half a beat to realize that he was not answering her unspoken question. “Tell the others we leave for Remire tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with Seteth I must attend to.” And with that, he swept out of the hall.

She finally allowed herself to exhale, slumping back slightly against table behind her. What on earth had _that_ been? Her sensei had surprised her many times since she had met him, but never had she felt like the tables had been so turned, the rug so thoroughly pulled out from under her, as she did now. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her blood pulsed with an uncomfortable intensity into her head. She rubbed her temple, squeezing her eyes shut.

“He is dangerous.”

“Don't you start!” she said, not able to keep the snap out of her voice this time. “If you hadn't decided to play that little game...”

“I underestimated him. If I thought he was so close to the truth, I would have said nothing.” Hubert sounded more defensive than usual. He recovered quickly. “Though this proves my point, Lady Edelgard. You must freeze him out. The more you reach for him-”

“He knows nothing. _You_ know nothing. You have duties to concentrate on, Hubert. Do so, and leave my judgment to me and me alone.”

Imitating her sensei, she swept out of the room, not bothering to acknowledge his contrite bow.

* * *

The dreams had been getting worse. There had been improvement since she had revealed their existence to her sensei, and even more after she'd told him of her second Crest, but ever since the sickness that came with the news out of Remire the nightmares had returned with a vengeful reckoning. Dreams of chains, of rats, of blood and surgical instruments. Of Duke Aegir's fat face sneering at her through the bars of her cage. Of Solon, and the monster with her uncle's face. Of her brothers and sisters dying in the darkness.

They were awful. She avoided sleep as much as she could, but this only seemed to make them even more dire.

Tonight was also a nightmare. Or was it? It was hard to say. She did not know herself, either in the dream or when she awoke.

She dreamt of her sensei's cool blue eyes, watching her. Delving into her. Through the mist of her sleeping mind, they shifted as dreams always do. Anger was there. Hatred. But then suddenly there was compassion and understanding. At the same time, they laughed at her, mocking; at the same time, they challenged her, expectant. They leered at her, saw through her mask and her pretensions and her clothes to the scared, naked girl under all of it, down to her very core, to her blackened, irredeemable heart.

If that was all, it would not be so different from the waking world. At any given moment, she was uncertain which if any of those things her real sensei thought or felt or saw.

It was what the eyes did to her in the dream that frightened her.

How unlike an ocean they were in the dream, his eyes. Not soothing, not cool, not steady and gradual like the tides at all. Instead, they licked into her like fire, searing in their heat. And from inside her came a twinned fire, reaching out, burning its way from her atrophied heart through layers upon layers of flesh until all of her had caught into a great conflagration, every inch of her aflame. It was pain and pleasure both. Her mouth opened to scream, either out of rapture or torment she could not tell, but what came out was not sound but liquid, rushing heat; all-consuming and all-destroying. It ate and ate and ate until there was nothing left in the world untouched by its fire.

Her eyes snapped open. Sweat soaked her skin. A moment later she realized it soaked her sheets, too, and she kicked them off. Her breath was ragged and uneven and she struggled for a moment to control it, wiping a hand across her damp brow.

Slowly, her respiration slowed. An aching tiredness flowed into her as the thumping in her chest ebbed its violent intensity. Her eyes grew heavy again. Even if she'd wanted to, she could not keep them open, could not keep herself from that dreamworld.

Not that she wanted to. The last thought her waking mind processed before it retreated was this: _In the dream, she had longed to burn._


	2. Monica

Edelgard woke before dawn the next morning. She'd pulled the covers back over herself in the night, but the smell and feel of stale sweat on skin remained. Her nose wrinkled. She would have to hurry if she wanted to be ready before the Black Eagles left for Remire.

The bathhouses were as empty as usual this early in the day; it was part of the reason why she'd grown accustomed to rising so early. The dreams were another, larger part. Edelgard sighed as she relaxed into the soft linen covering of the tub, letting the warm water soak into her. Though she had to fetch and heat the water all on her own when she came in like this before any of the servants were up, she actually preferred it that way. She hated being waited on.

On the way back to her room, she ran into a friend. Kätzchen, perched on the low stone wall in front of the stairs down to the greenhouse, blinked at her. The cat's white fur seemed almost red in the low light of the just dawning sun. Edelgard felt a smile blossom on her face.

“My dearest!” she called, clicking her tongue. She fished a hunk of cheese, remnants of her breakfast, out of the pocket of her loungewear and broke off a piece. With a soft meow, Kätzchen lept down from the wall and bounded over to her, accepting the offered food with a series of licks that made Edelgard giggle. “Oh, so kind.” As the cooing girl stroked behind cat's ears, she rolled over, exposing her belly and purring loudly. “Yes, who's this good kitty?” she asked rhetorically as she rubbed the belly of her favorite stray in the monastery. Kätzchen was the only one who trusted her enough not to maul her for trying. And she had tried with all of them.

But then she felt Kätzchen stiffen. She pulled her hand back, mindful of painful stinging scratches, and the cat hissed at something behind her. Tail puffed up, hackles raised, she bounced up onto arched haunches, twisting sideways to make herself appear larger to whatever the thing was. Edelgard turned, following the cat's gaze, and started.

Monica had snuck up behind her without her noticing.

“Oh, Edel-chan! So cute!” Monica crooned with all the sweetness of rotting fruit. Edelgard stood, and Kätzchen took the opportunity to turn and flee. The cat lept deftly up from a box near the base of the stone stairs to the wooden balcony that ran outside the second floor dormitories. There she hunched down, still growling and staring unblinkingly at the intruder. Monica pouted “I don't think she likes me...”

“What do you want?” Edelgard was usually better about controlling herself around this... thing, but she'd been unnerved.

“Edel-chan, I thought we were friends! I'm your senpai, after all, aren't I?” Monica bared its teeth.

Edelgard wanted to reach out and grab this thing's throat in her fist. She wanted to squeeze until she felt snapping bone, until that arrogant face turned purple and blue. But she couldn't. So instead she smiled, a smile etched deep into the aching muscles of her jaw.

“I'm sorry, Monica. It's just early, and you snuck up on me.”

Monica laughed like nails on a chalkboard. “I'm so sorry Edel-chan!”

Edelgard especially hated it when the creature used that nickname. It had heard Dorothea call her that, soon after it had shown up at the monastery, and had used the words ever since. Edelgard had loved when her songstress friend had started referring to her so informally. It was something she had never experienced, wrapped in privilege as a scion of Hresvelg in the palace of Enbarr or in chains as a prisoner in the dungeon below what used to be her home. But now, whenever Dorothea called her Edel-chan, a part of her heard Monica instead.

“I didn't mean to scare you! I just feel like you've been avoiding me lately...” Monica was right about that. Ever since the monster with her uncle's faith had inserted the fake-girl into Garreg Mach, it had followed her around as conspicuously as possible. Edelgard had been forced to avoid her classmates, her friends, even her sensei all to try and keep this creature away from them. “Hu-kun even gave me a talking to. He said I was bothering you!”

“As house leader, it's my duty to share my time with all of the Black Eagles.” Edelgard denied nothing.

“Of course Edel-chan! So diligent! That's why I love you so much!” Those teeth flashed again. “I'm sorry for startling you! I'll try and be more careful coming up behind you in the future. I wouldn't want you to think I was some villain coming to sink a dagger into your back!”

“I could never think you were capable of that, Monica,” Edelgard said, again not lying. She'd take Monica's arm off at the elbow first if she tried.

From up on top of the roof, Kätzchen let out a loud, extended yowl. She, at least, didn't seem to need to hide her feelings.

Contempt splashed across Monica's face, and she spat back. “Quiet, you fleabag, or I'll hang you by your own entrails!”

Edelgard felt a hand reach up and squeeze her heart. She'd noticed that she hadn't seen a number of the monastery cats recently. As soon as it entered her mind, the thought that this creature in front of her was responsible leeched red into the corners of her vision. She lunged forward, grabbing Monica by the lapels of its school uniform and lifting the thing off its feet.

“If you so much as touch a hair on that cat's head,” Edelgard snarled, “or ANY of my friends, I don't care what my uncle says or does. I will kill you. I promise you that.” She stared deep into those red-brown eyes, saw the hatred in them. Edelgard allowed herself a moment of speculation. What had the real Monica been like, before this thing had replaced her? What emotions had played through her eyes? What joys and sorrows had filled her heart? Again the urge to break this things neck and be done with it welled up inside her. Monica, eyes widening in shock, seemed to notice this, as its hands edged down towards its waistband where Edelgard knew it kept a weapon. The choice was quickly becoming inevitable.

But then the sounds of feet falling on flagstone filled the narrow boulevard, and Edelgard dropped Monica, stepping back and looking up the stairs towards the direction of the sound. Petra had just rounded the corner, breathing heavily and wiping at her brow with a cotton towel. She looked quizzical.

“Ah, Lady Edelgard. Monica.” Still huffing, the Brigidian princess looked back and forth between the two of them. “Good morning. I was wanting to exercise before the leaving. We are traveling on horseback all day, and I was wanting to... what is your expression? 'Heat up' my body?”

“The expression is 'warm up', Petra,” Edelgard said, trying to keep her voice neutral. The anger was still so intense. “And for the last time, you don't need to call me 'Lady'. We're all equal in the Black Eagles.”

“Of course, Edelgard.” Petra had made her way down the final step was and was level with the two of them now. “And thank you for giving to me the right phrase.”

“Petra!” Monica cooed, rushing forward to grab the other girl's arms in her hands. “Its so good to see you!”

Petra returned the gesture, but had not stopped looking back and forth between them. “Is everything being all right?”

Edelgard considered her. Petra was hard to read. She was kind, conscientious, and hard working, perhaps the most hardworking of the Black Eagles senior class. She was always polite, even friendly, in her interactions. And yet, for all that, she was still a prisoner of the Empire. Edelgard never forgot, and she was sure Petra didn't either. If their situations were reversed, if she were the one in hostile territory surrounded by enemies cloaked as friends, Edelgard knew that she would do everything she could to mask her heart and keep hidden what she really felt.

Here in front of Monica it suddenly clicked for her, in the way that ideas you've been turning over in your mind without realizing it often do, that their situations were not so reversed after all.

Petra was precious to her, whether the girl secretly hated her or not. She had to protect her from this creature.

“I was just adjusting Monica's uniform,” she lied, unsure of how much, if anything, Petra had seen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should never have let the creature get under her skin like that. She already looked suspicious enough to her sensei, and now she was raising red flags with her classmates.

“Yes, Edel-chan can be quite the disciplinarian, can't she?” Monica asked, winking. “So early in the morning and she insisted I tighten my collar!”

“It's important to keep up proper decorum at all times,” Edelgard said. Petra was still peering at her, that queer look still on her face. “But you have the right idea, Petra. It's important to stay limber before a long journey. Monica, why don't you come with me to the Training Grounds? You can help me prepare.”

“Senpai! I'd love to!” Monica released Petra's elbows and rounded on Edelgard. “Let's go!”

“I'll be along in a minute.”

Petra and Edelgard stared at each other for a moment after Monica had skipped off. Edelgard found she didn't know quite what to say, and so she said nothing. Petra kept studying her.

“Are you sure everything is being all right?” the girl from Brigid finally asked again, carefully.

“Yes, everything is fine,” Edelgard responded automatically. “I just... wanted to know if you needed anything. Before we leave on our mission to Remire.”

Petra smiled, reaching out and squeezing Edelgard's shoulder. “This mission. It is bothering you, isn't it Edelgard?”

“I... how do you mean, Petra?” She was as shocked at the physical affection as she was the question.

“Remire is where you were meeting sensei, no? Where he was saving you? I am knowing how important the sensei is to Lady Edelgard.”

Edelgard felt that rush of crimson on her face again. “No! I mean, yes, that's true, but...” She sighed inwardly as she could not outwardly. She wanted to tell Petra everything. She wanted to tell her that she was right about the importance of that village to her. She wanted to tell her about the sick feeling she'd felt since the trouble in Remire started, the feeling that seemed to be more than just her own guilt haunting her, that seemed to burble up out of her churning blood. She wanted to tell her about Monica and her uncle and Rhea and the Immaculate One and all that. In that moment, she wanted to so desperately. The lonely ache in her heart, which had been throbbing ever since she awoke from that dream, pained her so acutely standing in front of this smiling, concerned girl. But... “I'm sorry, I don't have time to talk, Monica is waiting for me.”

Petra looked a little saddened at that. Edelgard reached up and squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, though. For asking.” She smiled, and this one did not make her face ache.

Perhaps Petra did not secretly hate her after all, she thought as she made her way towards the Training Grounds. That brightened her mood, poked a little bit of sunlight through the clouds darkening her mind. And she'd have the perfect excuse to thrash that creature that called itself Monica when they sparred, she thought, brightening even more.

But then... Remire. The clouds darknened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned for this to be a short introduction to the Remire Village Mission chapter, but it got too long! I hope this doesn't become a trend or I'll be working on this story for much longer than I thought I would.
> 
> I had Petra screw up using the bare infinitive here, which she never did in game and seemed like a natural error for someone coming to English from another language to make (or coming to Japanese? Or maybe German? Kätzchen is German for kitten BTW. Edelgard is very good at coming up with names)


	3. Remire, and the Second Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and the Black Eagles arrive in Remire. Disaster awaits them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one! It kept getting longer.

_Ever since she was a little girl, Edelgard had always loved maps. Maps of the palace, maps of Enbarr, maps of Adrestria, maps in the appendices of the thick volumes of military history that she was always borrowing from the Hresvelg library. It did not matter. The magic of the whole concept, that you could fix your place squarely in the universe using only your mind and some lines drawn on a piece of paper, fascinated her. Even before it had become apparent that it would be she, the 8th born of 10 children, who would become heir, she had whiled away the hours teaching herself the finer points of cartography, all to better understand those wondrous maps._

_Her father had noticed. Even before treachery had robbed him of his other children, she was always a favorite. For her 9th birthday, he had bought her a huge, ornate map of the whole continent. When unfurled, the thing filled the floor of her bedroom, revealing the whole breadth of Fodlan. In general her memories of the time before the experiments were fuzzy, but she could still vividly remember that map. She could remember the feel of the thing as she ran her fingers along the supple vellum, tracing every river and road. The scent of it, the crackle it made as the calf-skin parchment rustled under her fingertip._

_Like any map of the continent, it was dominated by the scar that gashed through its center like a claw. The Oghma mountains. They separated the Kingdom from the Alliance and the Empire, and divided a third of Adrestia against herself. The map showed their full glory in fine topographical detail: contour lines and shading etched out each peak and valley. Nine year-old Edelgard imagined armies marching through those valleys, dreaming up a thousand stories of intrepid battles in mountain passes, of brave charges up steep slopes. Of a beautiful and virtuous general rearing up on her horse, pointing forward toward victory while her light brown hair fluttered in the wind._

_It wasn't hard for that still unscarred Edelgard to imagine a target for those righteous armies to be marching on. It was right there in the center: Garreg Mach, lording over all of Fodlan. The home of the Church of Seiros, the ones who her father had told her were responsible for carving up the Empire so long ago. The ones who lied and stole and schemed._

_The ones who were responsible for driving her mother away from her._

From the back of her horse, Edelgard drew in a sharp intake of breath. Dorothea looked over at her from the back of her brown courser, frowning. “Edel-chan, are you alright?”

It took Edelgard only a brief moment to recover before she leveled that same, rehearsed smile at the songstress. Inwardly, she cursed herself. Once again she'd let herself slip. “I'm fine Dorothea.”

She did not look convinced. “Are you sure? You've been acting out of sorts for the past couple of days.” Dorothea looked around to be sure they were far away from prying ears before leaning in to whisper. “I've got some herbs from Manuela, if you're in a womanly way.”

Edelgard felt the tension in her shoulders relax. Dorothea did not suspect anything unusual. She kept up that same smile, and nodded. “Thank you, I'd appreciate that. But let's wait until we stop; we're nearly at Remire now.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone again?” Dorothea asked, smiling. Before the interruption they'd been riding in silence.

“No, please.” Edelgard's smile slipped into a genuine one. She'd had enough time stuck in her own head today. “Let's talk. We haven't gotten as many chances to recently, since I've stopped attending our old anima study sessions.”

“Ugh, don't remind me.” Dorothea put her face in her palm.

“Linhardt giving you trouble? He hasn't been shirking, has he?” She frowned. “I explained to him very carefully why his continuing attendance was important. Building bonds between classmates is just as important as studying, and despite his protestations otherwise he'll be better at _both_ if-”

“No, no, he's still been coming,” Dorothea reassured her. “It's just... you used to balance us out a bit, you know? We keep getting into arguments without you around, and I swear he's doing it just to needle me. Like the other day, he kept trying to pick a fight with me over which type of element was best.” She sat up a bit in her saddle and affected a thin, weedy voice that Edelgard had to admit sounded very much like their friend. “'Wind is elegant. Wind is graceful. Wind is _efficient_. It's not some great, lumbering discharge of energy that's liable to leave you feeling more drained than whatever you just aimed it at.' All afternoon like that! Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I slammed my book shut and told him: Linhardt, last week you almost fainted after Caspar got a _papercut_ in class. Did you ever think that maybe the choice of an anima that so elegantly and efficiently severs veins and spills blood was not the best for you? He stared at me for about five minutes. I don't think he'd ever even thought about it that way before.”

Edelgard laughed. “Honestly, that sounds like quite a lot of effort for Linhardt! Usually he's trying much harder to avoid getting into debates with me than trying to win them.”

“What I wouldn't give for that,” Dorothea said, but she was smiling as she did. “But how about you? How are Hubert and Lysithea as study partners? I haven't gotten to know Lys-chan very well since sensei convinced her to transfer to our class. What's she like?”

Edelgard _had_ gotten to know Lysithea quite well, had perhaps allowed the other girl to get to know _her_ a little too well. But that would require discussing things that were both far too secret and far too sad to share with her bright, cheery friend. So she talked about other people instead. “She and Hubert get along quite well. Their mutual pragmatism helps, and so does the fact that Hubert never treats anyone with kid's gloves. I think Lysithea appreciates that. She seems to dislike it when people treat her like a child.”

“Oh believe me, she made that quite clear to me the first time I called her Lys-chan.” Dorothea winked at her. “Of course, that just made me call her it even more.”

Edelgard imagined Lysithea's reaction to that, and laughed again. “Deep down, she loves it. She's a good girl.”

“You'll make me jealous taking about another lady like that, Edel-chan.” Dorothea affected a heavy sigh. “She already stole you away from me and left me alone alone with that Philistine. Do you know what he told me about charm the other day? I was scandalized! It all started with me teasing him about his laziness not being very noble...”

The rest of the journey to Remire was filled with laughter

* * *

Later, after they'd reached the village, the subject of most of Dorothea's stories examined one of the villagers who showed symptoms of whatever malady the monster with her uncle's face had conjured up. This particular man had been chopping wood for over 5 days, according to his neighbors. Or at least, he had been chopping wood in the beginning. He'd long ago worked his way through the original log, and the stump underneath had been half-cleaved apart before the handle of the axe the man was wielding had snapped off. Now the man was doing more of a pantomime of lumbering more than anything else, swinging the broken handle in an arc that met nothing but air, over and and over without ceasing.

“He's eaten nothing for five days, they say.” Linhardt stroked his chin. “He should be dead. Honestly, I'm jealous. If I didn't have to waste time eating, think how much longer I could nap in the morning.”

“Don't joke. This isn't funny.” Lysithea's eyes narrowed.

“You're right of course. I apologize.” Despite his words, the boy's tone did not shift, and his eyes did not leave the axeman's face. “Humor is how I deal with stressful situations. Bad habit, I'm afraid.”

“_Why_ isn't he dead?” asked Edelgard. The man's face was worked into a vicious knot, all fury and pain. Her stomach churned. Dorothea's herbal remedy had helped, but now it was all she could do to keep the discomfort hidden under her mask.

“I don't know. It shouldn't be possible. My only thought is it has something to do with Crests. They can impart supernatural energies on the human body. I know I'm caricaturing myself with that one, but it's what leaps to mind.”

“I- agree,” offered Lysithea. “As much as I loathe to admit it. I think it would be best to bring in Hanneman-sensei.” The girl looked with knowing, wide-open eyes into Edelgard's. The expression combined with the shock of white hair was eerily familiar. “The symptoms are recognizable.”

Even though the telling tone in the other girl's voice confirmed that she'd been able to figure out far too much from their impromptu tea party the other week, Edelgard was forced to agree. Her eldest brother, the legitimate heir who had always emphasized the “half” half of half-sister, had yanked his right hand against the chain attaching it to the dungeon wall with the same kind of blank, lifeless intensity with which this man was swinging. His shattered wrist had eventually blackened, gangrenous, before infection took his life. “I'll tell sensei to send for him.”

A commotion down the street drew their attention. A woman screamed incoherently, gesticulating wildly as spittle rained out from the gape of her mouth. Eyes bulging, her face reddened to match her right, blood-stained eye. Then just as quickly, she stopped, her expression snapping blank. A moment later, she laughed; an ugly, guttural thing.

Beside her, a girl who must have been around five years old had started crying. Tears stained a face that fell under tawny brown hair. Edelgard's heart twitched. Before she could stop herself, she was halfway across the street, rushing over to the little girl. The child looked up at her before she knelt down on one knee, bringing their faces almost level.

“It's okay,” Edelgard said softly. She squeezed the poor thing's shoulder “It will be alright. Is this your mother?”

Sniffling, the girl nodded. She'd seemed to have stopped crying, at the very least.

“We're here from the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach. Do you know it?” The girl nodded. “We're going to help you. We're going to save your mother, and everyone else here too.”

“Do you promise?”

_Promise me, onee-chan._ Why must I see your face everywhere today, Kathrina? she asked herself.

“I promise.” The girl threw herself into Edelgard's arms, smearing tears and snot into the shoulder of her academy uniform. The pain in her heart subsided, just a little.

* * *

Her sensei absorbed the report from Linhardt and Lysithea with a nod. Neither she nor he said anything for a while. She'd avoided him all day, and she knew he knew it. After that conversation yesterday, and her dream, she hadn't been able to bear talking to him. She knew that he knew that too. Well, not about the dream. Or could he sense that as well? She wouldn't put it past him.

She let none of this show on her face. Her mask protected her there.

“Are you feeling better?” he finally asked.

“Sensei?”

“The reason I ask is that I haven't been. Feeling alright, I mean.” He grimaced. “I've felt quite awful, actually. You've tried to hide it, but you have been too, correct? It's because of the Crest we share, I'm sure of it. Based on what Linhardt said, that is probably at root of whatever is going on here.”

There was no point in lying. “Yes, sensei.” She paused to consider, her fingers running over the lid of phial in her pocket that she had brought here with her. Thanks to her sensei, she was now saved the awkwardness of trying to force the conversation in this direction. “Dorothea gave me a herbal tincture. She thought it was because I was menstruating, but it did end up helping with the nausea. I still have a few bottles from her. Would you like one?”

He nodded. She handed it to him.

She'd avoided looking him in the face the whole time.

* * *

It seemed like they would be here a while, at least until the end of the month. The students of the Black Eagles, except for those who remained in town, set up their tents and organized a camp. They'd come up with a list of duties. Who would keep the fire? Who would keep watch? Who would keep an eye on the afflicted villagers in town? Byleth kept his hand light, but they could all tell he was proud of how they organized themselves so readily and independently. He announced that they would hold regular tactical lessons in the evening. The foothills of Remire would provide the perfect opportunity, he said. It was where his own father had taught him to use terrain to his advantage in battle. But that would be hours from now.

Edelgard took the opportunity to take a nap in her tent. She hadn't got anywhere near enough sleep the night before, what with dreaming of self-immolation.

She awoke to screams. She knew as soon as her eyes opened that she had slept only a short while, maybe a half hour, as she felt the pang of hunger that came with sleeping on an empty stomach. Gradually, the smell of smoke filled her nostrils. Alarmed, she sat up.

Lysithea was still in the village. That was her first thought. When she'd returned to camp, she'd left her and Linhardt in the custody of Caspar, who'd come to visit his closest friend, and Ferdinand, who'd felt his typical noblesse oblige boredom while watching the other students laboring to erect tents.

She lept out of the simple cot she'd been napping in, and grabbed her trusty steel axe from where it lay hanging on the burlap canvas that formed her tent. After a moment's thought, she fished a utility belt out of the chest at the foot of her cot and slotted two hand axes into it. There was no time to put on any armor. Her academy uniform would have to do.

Coming out of her tent, she met her sensei, who had been about to enter into it. He gave his typical nod in greeting, but his face looked tight, tighter than she'd ever seen.

“Something's gone wrong,” was all he said.

“The others-” she started, pushing exhaustion out of the corners of her vision, “-they're still in there, in Remire.” The urgency in his eyes told her that he understood.

“Let's go.”

They met up with the rest of the Ealges outside: Bernadetta, her bow shaking as the poor girl trembled with fear; Petra, her eyes fierce and determined, sword drawn; Dorothea, her lips a thin, pale line; Hubert, his expression blank.

“W-what's going on? I-is the v-v-v-illage under attack?”

“Our friends, are they being in danger?”

“Sensei, what's going on? Lin-kun and Lys-chan-”

Byleth raised a hand and the disharmonious voices of Edelgard's female classmates fell silent. “This has turned into a rescue operation: The afflicted villagers have turned violent, and we must save our comrades and the other inhabitants of Remire. My father has already gone on ahead with the other Knights and we will provide them with support.” He looked at each of them in turn. “This will not be a pleasant experience, worse even then we had to kill the militia at Magdred. Steel yourselves. We will have no option but to put down the afflicted, even if they are women or children. My father reports that they've already begun killing the other villagers.”

The look in his eyes... the raw pain that appeared there unguarded. It almost sounded as if this had happened to him before.

Bernadetta wailed. “Sensei! C-can't I just stay here? I don't want to k-kill people like that!”

Dorothea laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Do you really want to stay here while Caspar, Ferdinand, and the others are in danger?” There was no venom in the question, only a gentle concern.

“N-no.” The archer looked away. “I guess not...”

“We're wasting time.” Hubert's voice was harsh, and as she tore her gaze away from her sensei's face Edelgard saw that he'd been looking unerringly at her as he spoke. “We don't have the luxury of sentimentality right now.”

Edelgard loosened her right hand from the cravat she had been squeezing so desperately. Smoothing it out, she let her hand fall to her side. They made their way across the bridge into Remire.

Jeralt was already engaged with the first wave of what had once been the village's peaceful population when they caught up to him, unmounted knights at his side. The Breaker of Blades stabbed forward, his lance catching one of the creatures in the chest and lifting it bodily into the air. His men looked far less willing to engage, hanging back with a reticence Edelgard had not expected to see in the elite Knights of Seiros. She found it hard to blame them.

The smell had only gotten stronger as the fires consuming Remire spread. Burning wood, charcoal thick in the air. And something else.

Bernadetta sniffed the air. “Is that... pork? Why-”

“Do not be thinking about that, Bernadetta.” Petra was pale. “Do not let your mind be going down that path, my friend.” Bernadetta paled as well.

A large horde of the former villagers, around ten in all, had arranged themselves in the woods that ran up the central hill that the hamlet was built around. At one point, a fort had secured that hill, a legacy of Saint Seiros's war, but it had long ago fallen into disrepair, the stonework broken down to build homes. These creatures seemed intent on resurrecting the hill's original defensive purpose, guarding something at the top. Peering up the slope, through the trees, Edelgard saw why. Her blood turned cold.

Solon. Still wearing the face of that poor librarian, Tomas, but to her unmistakably Solon all the same. He was surrounded by a group men, armored, who were clearly still in control of their senses, unlike this poor mob at the base of the hill. Other slithering snakes, most likely. Solon's protection. Had he been lurking here, lying in wait for them to arrive and take this macabre show to it's next stage?

She pointed up the ridge. “Up there. That group seems to be observing the chaos. They must be responsible.”

Jeralt followed the direction of her gesture. “Good eyes. We have higher priorities, though. We'll hold them off here, son. You and your students sweep the rest of the town, save as many villagers as you can.”

“No.” Her sensei shook his head.

“No?” The mercenary sounded surprised to have his orders gainsaid.

“Whoever those men are, Edelgard is right. They are almost certainly responsible for this. Their capture or elimination is our top priority. Edelgard-” he turned to face her. “Where were Linhardt and the others when you left them?”

“Over there, on the western edge of town. Near the inn.”

“Find them. If they're unharmed, lead them. If there are injuries, send them with an escort back to camp and continue on. Your mission is to rescue any villagers you find and then flank around to hit the group on the hill in the rear. Petra take Hubert and Bernadetta and do the same for the eastern half of Remire. Father, you and I will charge up the hill. We cannot allow an atrocity like this to repeat itself. Not again.” The rage leeching into his voice drained Edelgard's face of all its color.

“When the hell did you get so assertive?” Jeralt muttered to himself. He sighed. “Well, you heard the man, boys! What, did you want to grow old and gray like me?” He pointed his lance up the hill. “Charge!”

Edelgard was already gone, off into the streets of Remire.

* * *

The carnage was horrific. Bodies of those too slow to escape littered the ground: men, woman, children. The wounds were brutal, horrific in their efficiency. Smashed skulls and broken necks. Quick. The afflicted seemed single minded in their work, as if the murder of their former neighbors was the same as milling wheat or tanning leather.

Edelgard made short work of the few that still lingered in the street, searching for more victims. They still seemed to die when a blade of an axe bit into their neck, still seemed to ignite if a bolt of magical flame exploded against their flesh. None of them came close to striking her: whatever magic coursed through their blood did not help them against one like her, and whatever Crest Solon had twisted to do this dark magic was not a match for her two.

The scion of von Hresvelg usually did not feel bloodlust in battle, but she would admit if pressed that there did come a satisfaction with ending certain people's lives, those that deserved such judgment. Kostas, for example, when she had parted that sorry excuse for a man's head from his shoulders. She felt none of that now. Only a deepening dread, a sinking feeling that threatened to pull her down into the depths under her feet. _These people were all dead because of her_.

She found her classmates right where she'd left them, outside the town's only inn. The four of them formed a tight half-circle between a group of huddling villagers and a small pack of the afflicted. Ferdinand and Caspar, the former with a wet gash across his brow and the latter panting heavily, stood in front of the two spellcasters, screening them. Linhardt was holding a useless, dangling arm; it was surely broken, Edelgard could tell even at this distance. Lysithea looked like she was about to collapse.

But they were all alive. Her heart lept.

“Everyone!” she shouted, drawing the attention of the afflicted. The first to round on her got a handaxe to the face that split its skull open, the second exploded into conflagration. Then she was on them, swinging with all the force she could put behind her weapon's steel head. She took the closest thing's leg off at the knee and it tottered, falling over onto its side. Edelgard would not let herself think about how the thing had been a young woman only slightly older than her not an hour ago. She finished it off with a solid blow to the neck.

The next thing, this one had been an old man, reached her, and with a flash of steel his neck erupted into a geyser of blood. Its companion stumbled over its corpse, and Edelgard took the opportunity to shatter its skull with a smash of her axe before it could regain its footing. It wouldn't have even been a man, yet; maybe 15 or 16. The final creature, Edelgard recognized it as having been the town mayor, was bisected by a spell cast by Linhardt.

Having retrieved her hand ax from the shattered remains of what had once been a human face, Edelgard sprinted over to her friends. “Are you all alright?”

“Edelgard.” gasped Caspar. “_Yokatta_. I thought we were dead.” His fists were bruised, blood that was at least partly his dripping down to the ground. “They just... wouldn't stay down. No matter how hard I hit them.”

“These things aren't going to be stopped by your fists.” Linhardt's voice had a hard, flinty quality to it Edelgard hadn't heard there before. He was grimacing, still clutching his arm just above the elbow. “A concussion isn't going to stop them. As long as that Crest tainted blood is pumping through their veins, they're going to keep moving.”

“Here,” Edelgard said, spinning her ax around and offering it handle-first to Caspar. “Strike to kill.”

He took it. “Thanks, Edelgard.” He swung the ax through the air, experimentally. “Whoa, this is really well balanced! The craftsmanship on this thing is-”

Edelgard pushed past him, ignoring the enthusiasm that she might have found endearing in other contexts. “Lysithea?” Her voice half-caught in her throat. The girl was teetering on her feet, eyes blank and slowly blinking. Edelgard caught her before she could fall over. “Lysithea, are you alright?” _Nee-chan... promise me._

“We probably would be dead if it wasn't for her,” Caspar said. “Not a knock on you, Linhardt, but the magic she was casting... It was like those things just fell apart from the inside. But no matter how many she dusted or how many Linhardt cut apart they just kept coming.”

Edelgard looked finally to Ferdinand. The young noble's gaze was unfocused, the improvised wooden weapon that looked to have once been a table leg still held out in front of him, shaking. “Ferdinand.”

His eyes snapped to her. “Edelgard.” He smeared blood across his face with the back of his hand.

She thought, quickly and silently. Then, she pulled her yet unused second hand ax out of her belt and handed it to him. “Take this.”

“I-I do not know how to- There were so many of-”

“Ferdinand.” She said again, more forcefully. The boy's panic was understandable, but she did not have time for it. “You have an obligation.”

“Obligation. Yes. My duty.”

“Lysithea is incapacitated. Those civilians are unarmed. Take this, and lead them out of Remire. I've cleared the way to the bridge.”

“Yes. Yes Edelgard. I am sorry, I-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Go.” He took the ax from her outstretched hands. “Linhardt, can you keep going? Or will you join them?”

“I can cast with one hand,” he said. “And who'd look out for Caspar if I wasn't there?” He grinned, but the pain showed through. Edelgard ignored it, and instead trusted him.

The three of them continued on through the streets, turning south now back towards the Oghma mountains. With Caspar there to watch her back, the afflicted proved to be even less of a threat. Linhardt, on her order, saved his magic. For all his bravado, it was obvious that he too was very nearly exhausted. They managed to save three more villagers along the way. The first was the innkeep's wife. They sent her along to catch up with her husband in the crowd Ferdinand was shepherding out of the town. The second was a merchant from the Kingdom who thanked them profusely after Caspar had felled the thing attacking him.

The third, and final, was the girl from before. The one to whom Edelgard had made that foolish promise. The child stared up as Edelgard stood over the corpse of her mother, which gasped and sputtered blood. The blow Edelgard had delivered to it had been poor; at the last moment, she'd recognized the woman. Instead of a clean severing of the head, blood gushing from the ruins of what had been a neck choked the thing that had once been a mother to death.

“You... you promised.”

_Promise me, El. Promise me, a young girl in chains begged as she died. Promise me you won't give up._

“I'm sorry.” No. She couldn't. She must not remember that now, not now. She could not allow herself too. If she did, she would be undone. It was like Hubert said. She didn't have the luxury. “I'm- I'm sorry.”

“Edelgard!” Caspar shouted. “Enemy cavalry!”

She snapped in the direction he was pointing. Her blood turned cold with rage.

What was he doing here? What _in the hell_ was he doing here? The dark figure on horseback was leading a small contingent of soldiers, _her soldiers_, on a path directly up the back of Remire's central hill and right towards her sensei.

“The Death Knight,” Linhardt observed, fear evident in the way his voice shook. “We're in trouble. Should we fall back to the others? I don't think we can take him on-”

Edelgard sprinted forward. She took all the pain and misery of that day so far and concentrated on it as hard as she could, focusing and shaping it, pushing it up her arm towards her right hand's five nimble fingers, using it to excite the air around them until they were consumed in flame, burning blue-white hot. She threw the resulting mass of burning air and magic directly in the path of the horsemen, igniting a huge wall of flame that made a couple of the less experienced soldiers buck and fall off the backs of their mounts. Emile, though, was a steady hand. He rounded on Edelgard, temporarily delaying his path towards her sensei.

She probably should have expected this. Emile had complained bitterly after she ordered him to avoid combat with her sensei in the Holy Mausoleum, practically whined after she'd extracted him from the battle during Flayn's kidnapping. It had been a mistake to put him here to monitor the situation in Remire, in retrospect. Her orders, to observe but intervene to save the village if need be, had been too open. But that did nothing to diminish the rage crackling like shifting ice through her veins.

“What are you doing?” rasped Emile from behind the Death Knight's armor. Then he screamed in pain as Edelgard's handaxe bit through steel plate and into his shoulder.

“You should be the one who should be answering that question!” she shouted, red faced. He was jeopardizing _everything_. He was tying her, inextricably, to what was going on in this village with his presence. “Don't obstruct my path!”

His men, intimidated as much by her presence as they were the flames she had called forth, were already retreating. Emile looked from her to them to the scene at the hilltop where her sensei battled Solon. For a moment Edelgard thought he would resume charging. But he, too, turned his mount and fled.

Linhardt and Caspar had caught up to her, awed. “Edelgard-”

She rounded on the green haired boy. “Warp me. Now. Caspar, give me back that axe.”

“Wha- warp you? What are you talking about?”

“Warp me onto the hilltop.” She took her axe, taking comfort from the familiar weight in her hands. She flexed her fingers, gripping into the handle. “I must defend sensei.” If Solon hurt him too...

The experience was as disconcerting as it always was. One moment, she was staring into Linhardt's face as the young mage gripped her shoulders, and the next, after a pulse of energy that set her head spinning, she was standing at the top of the hill, watching from behind as Solon deflected a strike of the Sword of Creator aside with a glowing disc of eldritch energy. The dark mage cackled.

Gripping her axe with both hands, she flung it as hard as she could at that slithering thing's head. Solon turned at the last moment, and the steel head caught him in the neck instead. Screaming, ichor black blood seeping down his robes, Solon contorted his face in rage. “_You!_”

Her sensei wasted no time. Taking advantage of the distraction, he lept forward, sword gleaming red. He chopped down, clearly intending to finish the job. But his blade met only air. Solon had warped away.

“Wait!” Jeralt cried, his horse rearing as he pulled on the reins. “Damn it! He's gone.”

Edelgard said nothing. She and her sensei stood there, staring at each other, both panting and out of breath. They had failed.

Finally, she spoke. “I'll survey the village. There may still be enemies in hiding.” With that, she retreated, unable to bare his gaze any longer.

* * *

When she returned to him next, she wore her mask. The literal one, not just the metaphor. She'd been unable to get that rage in his eyes out of her mind, the intensity of it. Who was it that angered him so? Just Solon, or the Flame Emperor as well? And Edelgard? What did he think of that sad, lonely girl? What did he suspect. What did he _know?_ So as soon as she'd gotten out of sight of the former-mercanary and his father, she'd made a bee-line for where she'd hidden the regalia of the one who would reforge the world.

“There you are.” She interrupted Byleth and his father, stepping out of the brush and into their view.

Jeralt reacted first. “That armor. So you're the Flame Emperor.”

“Yes. I believe you have met my subordinate, the Death Knight.”

“Oh, we've met all right. But back to you. You're the one responsible for the destruction of this village.” Up until this moment, even in battle, Jeralt struck her as a jovial, friendly man. That was not the impression she got of him in that moment. Hatred radiated off of him.

This was exactly the reaction she had feared. Damn you, Emile, and your obsession. “Do not jump to conclusions.”

“What?” His voice was low, dangerous. His grip on his lance tightened.

“It is true that I... work with Solon.” She could not deny that much. “But our objectives are not the same. Had I known they planned to do this, I would have stopped it. You have my word.”

“Your word.” Jeralt scoffed. She could practically taste his contempt.

“If left to their own devices, they will commit countless more violent acts like this one. Do you not wish to prevent that? With the Sword of the Creator at our side-”

“Who are 'they'?” Byleth asked, interrupting. It was the first time he'd spoken. Edelgard finally allowed herself to look at him. The rage that had beat within him all day was still there but... it was hard to describe. Not directed outward. His eyes, looking into the slits of her mask, were soft.

“Don't tell me that you're entertaining this tall tale! If I had a gold piece for every time some bandit insisted in front of a burning village that it was all a big misunderstanding, I'd be a rich man.”

“There are clearly multiple groups at play here, father.”

“Oh? And how precisely do you know that, boy?”

Byleth pointed at her face. Her mask. “Both Jeritza and this Flame Emperor have to wear those. Jeritza wore two of them in fact. How does that compare to Tomas?” He corrected himself. “Solon.”

Jeralt's eyes widened. “You're right. He could change his face.” Just as quickly, he frowned. “But that proves nothing beyond the fact that Solon had a special trick up his sleeve. Come on, Byleth. You're reaching.”

Her sensei shook his head. “You're not thinking broadly enough, father. Think about what Solon said at the end. 'I could have conducted this experiment on any test subjects.' So why choose Remire? You can surely see the disadvantages. The close proximity to Garreg Mach guaranteed a response from the Knights, and we almost killed him on top of that hill. If Edelgard's axe had hit him just an inch to the left, there'd be no more Solon to speak of. And ignoring the threat to his own life, they just gave away to the Church of Seiros not only the fact that they have shapeshifters, but that they've had a mole in their organization this entire time. What possible benefit could make up for that?”

She should say something. She was losing control of this interaction, just like she had the last, back in the dining hall. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. What could she say?

“Hmphhh.” Jeralt crossed his arms. “I suppose you've got an idea of why, then?”

Now, Byleth nodded. “I can only see one. To provoke precisely this reaction. Our history with this town is not a secret; anyone of the villagers would brag to anyone that asked about their relationship with the Breaker of Blades. Why else do you think this Flame Emperor risked appearing before us? Clearly, he doesn't want us to think he was involved. I think his desire to work together to stop this group of mages is genuine, and this attack was an attempt by 'them' to make that impossible.”

“That's... an interesting theory. But it doesn't change what we need to do here.” He lifted his lance to point at her. “You'll come back with us to the monastery. We can sort this all out there.”

Part of her wanted to agree, to go with them. To tear the mask off her face and reveal everything in that moment, to throw herself on the mercy of her sensei. To trust that he would understand, would honor that bond, that tug that had pulled them inexorably towards each other from the first moment they'd met. He'd already far surpassed any reasonable expectation she'd had about being able to see her side of things. So why not? Why not stop smothering herself behind this mask, why not expose herself to open air, to oxygen? Why not trust in the spark between them, let it ignite into something more?

Perhaps, if it had been just the two of them, she might have done it in that moment. But instead, coward that she was, she took the opportunity Hubert provided her when he “accidentally” burst in on the three of them to flee. Again, for the second time that day, she felt a stomach curdling lurch as she Warped away deeper into the woods, carried away by the magic built into the Flame Emperor's armor. Away from her sensei.

She was not yet ready to burn.


	4. The Third Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard continues to pick at the scab over her heart. Byleth gets real.

When she slipped back into camp some time later, Edelgard discovered that Hubert's interruption had thrown the entire class into a panic looking for her. Making sure to appear properly chastened, Edelgard assured them that she was fine. She'd just gone out into the forest to decompress. This lie had the advantage of both being partially true and also perfectly in line with what they all knew of her habits and predilections. Dorothea had given her an odd look, and Hubert himself was nowhere to be seen. And the whole time, she'd felt her sensei's eyes silently watching her. She made no move to meet them.

The first thing she did, after she'd fended off all the questions, was check in on Lysithea. The girl was sleeping soundly in her tent, unharmed. Edelgard breathed a sigh of relief, feeling some of the tension that had been coiling inside of her all day loosen as she brushed the bangs out of the dozing prodigy's eyes.

That potential nightmare dispelled, Edelgard had inquired as to the state of the rest of her classmates.

Linhardt and Ferdinand were no worse for wear. The green haired boy's arm had been healed, as had the deep gash on future Duke von Aegir's forehead. Dorothea apparently still had plenty of healing magic left, even after aiding her sensei on his reckless charge. Caspar seemed more haunted by the fact that she'd lost “that sweet axe” when Solon had Warped away than anything else. More of that pressure on her heart lightened. Still more might have if she hadn't felt two blue eyes following her as she spoke to each friend in turn.

Hubert, she discovered, was waiting for her in her tent. She started, but refused to show it as the canvas flapped shut behind her.

“That was extremely foolish, Lady Edelgard.” His eyes were as hard as coal, but he kept his voice soft, inaudible to the outside world.

“Hubert, I don't need this right now.” She wiped a gloved hand across her brow, but the clamminess lingered.

“You do.” She frowned. He was verging on the insubordinate. “Do not be fooled by the honey in his words, Your Highness.”

She pushed past him, opening the chest at the foot of her cot. “So, you were listening, were you?” Stripping her gloves, she tossed them inside. “We can discuss it later.”

“He suspects you, but does not know. He is goading you into revealing yourself. Then he will have you, and all our work will be undone. What matter is it if we have the support of the key Ministries if the Church arrests you here? What use the Imperial throne if Rhea cuts off your head?”

She wanted to continue to ignore him, but his prodding worked. She whirled on him, her blood up. Her ire was driven by the fact that part of her agreed with his suspicions, had expected such a tactic from her sensei before she'd ambushed him and his father. But his eyes, when he'd looked at her through her mask...

“I'm sure your letting him know I wasn't in camp did an excellent job of allaying his suspicions. I know the risks, better than you.”

“Ordinarily I would agree with you, Lady Edelgard. You are usually the most level-headed and practical person I know. Frankly, your genius often startles me. But lately you have been off. Your judgment has been clouded. You have allowed sentimentality to compromise your thinking, a sentimentality that, as I said, you do not have the luxury of.”

The air in the tent was becoming oppressive. Sweat beaded around the back of her neck. She struggled to keep her voice to a whisper. “And how many more Remires would you put on me, Hubert? How many more children must I orphan to satisfy your 'practicality'?”

“You are not responsible for what happened today. What you said earlier was true. You did not know of it and you would have stopped it if you did. You are no more responsible for this than you are what Those Who Slither in the Dark did at Duscur or at Enbarr.”

The implication of the latter prepositional flipped something in her. She felt spots forming at the edges of her vision. The whisper came out as a hiss. “You say that. But then you also say I am so tainted by what I've done that sensei will never see me as anything else but a villain. So which is it?”

“Taint-?” Hubert's eyes widened in shock. “Lady Edelgard, no. The fault is in him, not in you. Don't you see? He is of _them_. The Archbishop knows it. That's why she gave him a Professorship. That's why she let him wield the Sword of the Creator. He is connected to the same lineage they are, child of the same Goddess. She can see it. Why can't you?” Suddenly, he reached out, gripping her shoulders, and she flinched at this sudden violation of protocol. “He will never walk the path we have carved for ourselves. He cannot. It is against his nature. His path-” his fingers gripped into her uniform “-lies over your grave.”

No. No no no. _No_. The spots had lengthened into strings, and they threatened to eat her whole vision. Her head throbbed. He needed to get out, now. She reached into her depths, pulling forth every ounce of authority she could muster. Flexing her shoulders, she easily broke his grip as she reared to her full height.

“**Margrave von Vestra**.” He recoiled from the sound of his father's title like it was a whip in her hands. “Your services are not required at the moment. You may leave.”

His bow was deep, overly formal; his face long.

As soon as he was gone, she vomited. Luckily, she reached her chamber pot first. Her vision cleared and her stomach settled as she spat away the last vestiges of sick into the receptacle. A groan lengthened into a light sob. She couldn't get that woman's face out of her mind, or her daughter's. And that led to even more painful memories.

Damn Hubert. Damn Emile.

Damn her sensei.

Hubert was right about one thing: it had been much easier before she'd met him. She hadn't felt nearly as confused. She sighed, wiped her mouth, and went to go dispose of the former contents of her stomach in the same woods she had just retreated into.

She walked a little faster as she felt those blue eyes, still watching.

* * *

On the long road back to Garreg Mach, refugees in tow, no one spoke. It began raining about an hour into their trip.

* * *

It would essentially be a confession _not_ to speak to him about it. That's what she decided. Hubert might have been right: her sensei probably did suspect her involvement. But avoiding the topic of the Flame Emperor's visit would merely serve to deepen that suspicion. Wouldn't it?

The question had bounced back and forth in her mind as they made their way back up the Oghma mountains, gathering force and energy. It was late when they returned to the Entrance Hall, well past midnight, and Edelgard lingered as the rest of the Black Eagles continued on toward the student dormitories. She caught her sensei's eye, and he lingered too until they were the only ones left in the hall.

He looked devastated, she realized now that she had a good, close look at him. All the rage that had been their in his expression had cooled, leaving only grief. That was somehow worse.

“Sensei, I don't know if this is appropriate to say, but... admirable work out there,” she said. “I really believe we did all that we could.”

“I was complacent.” He frowned. “I shouldn't have waited so long before acting. I should have quarantined the afflicted. I should have insisted Manuela come with us immediately instead of waiting until the end of the month to return; she could have at least stopped Solon from getting away. I should have-”

“Sensei.” She matched his frown with her own. “There's no way you could have known what was going to happen. You aren't omniscient. It isn't your fault.” _It's mine_, she left unsaid but felt more deeply every time this poor man blamed himself.

He sighed, heavily, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. She decided it was best to change the subject, even if it required pushing through her layered apprehension to reach. “I hear the self-proclaimed 'Flame Emperor' appeared again. Hubert told me you spoke with him.”

“Yes. He asked me to join forces with him.” Fingers withdrawn, his eyes stared unblinkingly into hers.

“Is that what you want, sensei?” Edelgard frowned. He could have lied to the Flame Emperor when he seemed to indicate that he did. Would he lie to Edelgard? Could she tell any better, or would she be just as confused?

Byleth said nothing, and the moment drifted on too long. He had to say something. If he didn't, what could she do except stay here, locked into looking into his eyes. As in the dream, she felt the flames lick at her.

“I... suppose that it's hard to trust someone without even knowing who they are.” She stumbled at the start, but recovered, going to what she had rehearsed. “You couldn't possibly understand his objectives, unless he were to appear before you without his mask. Then you could look in his eyes and decide what you believe.”

Byleth said nothing. Edelgard felt the dampness of the night.

And then Monica came upon them, the creature that never slept. Surely it had been contacted by the monster with her uncle's face demanding an accounting. After all, she'd tried to kill Solon. Almost had, Goddess damn it. “Edel-chan! I need to ask you something.” It pantomimed embarrassment. “Oh, gomen! Did I interrupt?”

“No-” She was stopped before she could even complete the vowel.

“Yes. Edelgard and I are talking.” Her sensei's gaze turned from her, and she found she could breathe again. “Please leave us alone.” Something about the finality of his tone lit something in her, and she found she had to bite her tongue.

Monica's face flickered into something vicious. It tightened its body before relaxing, thinking better of it. “Ah! Sorry, sensei! You two are so close, surely you would want to talk after such a harrowing event.” It stared at Edelgard, daring her to ask how it could possibly know about the calamity at Remire already.

Byleth did not ask. He did not even look at Monica, even as the thing tinted an ugly spotted red. It retreated, shooting a dirty look back at the both of them. She would certainly be hearing from the monster that wore her uncle's face soon.

But even after the thing left, the silence persisted.

“Sensei. Is there anything else?” she asked, when she felt the pressure grow too strong.

“You're the one who asked me to speak to you.”

“I didn't ask anything of you, sensei.” She felt her frown return.

“You did. I can always see it in your eyes. The question.”

“What question?”

He stepped forward. She felt her nostrils flare at this level of intrusion on her personal space, one that he had never exhibited before.

“Edelgard.” His tone was flat. “We have had this same conversation three times in the same number of days. Do you not think it is time to stop?”

She counted in her head. Three? Was he counting the conversation where she had given him Dorothea's tincture? Otherwise-

He reached out his hand. It hung between them, palm up and open, awaiting hers.

She gave it to him. She shouldn't have, she thought immediately. It was a confession of weakness she could ill afford. Hubert had been right. This was all a ruse. He was trying to lure her into a false sense of security. He was playing on her innocence and naivety, on her stupid school girl crush. Any moment, the entire spectacle would collapse on itself. Rhea would appear, and that toad of hers, Seteth, and his stupidly cute little sister who she had stupidly stepped in to save. The four of them would all have a good laugh at her expense before locking her into a jail no one could ever reach, the lowly human who had thought-

He placed her hand against his chest and her mind went blank. It took four or five beats of her own very noisy heart before she noticed what she felt, or more accurately did not feel, there.

She blanched again, her eyes snapping away from those two blue eyes to her gloved right hand. She pressed firmly into his leather jerkin, now ignoring the pleasant feeling of his pectoral muscles. Sure enough, she felt nothing.

“Sensei!?” she gasped, shocked.

“I have never been a normal human. I know that. I've been carrying a sword and taking lives since I was at least-” he blinked “-I must have been eight years old, if I put it all together. A bandit broke through our front lines and was threatening to put a warhammer into my father's skull. I grabbed a fallen man's sword and stabbed him through the heart. I felt nothing. I never did, in those days. It was like being underwater. I could hear sounds, feel the vibrations but they were... muted. Distant. It was only in my dreams that I saw color. At least before I met you, before things started to bloom. But even now, most think me lifeless, an Ashen Demon.

“That element of myself has you scared, I know. Its not your fault. I'll admit, it's frightening. Hubert has been rightly warning you. I am not blind. I can see the accusation in his gaze. He's told me to my face that he thinks I'm hiding a second one, somewhere deep inside. And... I heard the two of you, earlier last night.” His face reddened at this, which surprised her. “I swear to you though, Edelgard. I could not bring myself to turn my sword against you. I would sooner turn this Relic upon myself, stab out my own heart in place of yours.

“You want to know what I would tell the Flame Emperor if she appeared before me without her mask? I would tell her that I've seen enough evidence for myself that this world was rotten to the core. That it was dominated by robber barons, scheming counts, corrupt dukes. That I've killed from the reaches of Enbarr to the shores of the Rhodos Coast to the borders of Almyra, but I could count on my left hand the number of worthy 'nobles' that I've met. There is no peace in Fodlan. Anything the Church says to contradict that is just another lie, and one that will not last. This world needs to be reforged, or it will shatter.

“I will give my life to see that it will be. I will stand with you, even if it means being drawn like the moth to the flame. I will fight by your side no matter how many enemies you amass.”

It was the longest she had ever heard him speak outside of lecture.

More than one hair shifted. Both eyebrows and eyelids did more than twitch; in fact, her entire face collapsed. As tears formed in the corners of her vision, she felt that heavy, weighted mask slip, felt it crash to the floor and break into a thousand thousand little pieces. It felt glorious to cry. She had lied to herself when she swore that the girl who was capable of it had died long ago.

She would tell him everything now. And she was glad.

For, as in the dream, she knew now she longed to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Why *is* Byleth acting so assertive? Why is he suddenly picking up on the very obvious clues Edelgard is laying down? Why does he suddenly understand that his name is Mr. Thompson? (cf: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkaDSiPrFGs) Tune in next time to Dragon Ball Z!
> 
> Byleth's comments about his role as a mercenary connecting to his decision to side with Edelgard was the whole brainworm I built this story around, as well as the reason why I think Edelgard Did Nothing Wrong when she decided to launch her war. If Fodlan were to follow our history, it would soon enter into a period called in some historiographies the Military Revolution, when the scale and devastation of the regularly recurring wars of the feudal era massively increased. Mercenary companies, and their state owned equivalents the permanent standing army, would be unleashed on Europe like a scourge, as seen in the Hundred Years War, the Italian Wars, and ultimately in the Thirty Years War. In that last conflict, something like 50-75% of some regions of Germany were killed or displaced. Nobles, you see, tended not to want to actually pay their now massively inflated armies, leading to things like the Sacks of Rome and Magdeburg, which puts Rhea turning Fhirdiad into a giant funeral pyre to shame.
> 
> Oh yeah, I also discovered while writing this chapter, to my infinite regret, that Monica actually calls Edelgard Edel-san and not Edel-chan in the Japanese voice track. I am sorry for lying to you, readers.


	5. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been over two weeks. I'm a bad boy. Stomp on me, Lady Edelgard~

The thing that threatened to trip it all up was Remire. Not the second tragedy, but the first barely averted one.

Edelgard found it was easy enough to tell him about the monster with her uncle's face and its friends, about what they'd done to her family and Dimitri's and Lysithea's. Everything she knew about the experiments done to the children of Hresvelg and Cordelia, everything she knew about the Tragedy of Duscur. It was easy to tell him about Monica and Tomas and the other half dozen or so nobles spread out across Fodlan that she suspected of being aligned with them. The truth about who Rhea was and what the Relics were also came easily; he already seemed to suspect it given his comments on the Church's lies. Her goals, the elimination of the Crests and the nobility as a class, she'd both already told him before and was herself so confident in that she had to constrain her excitement in explaining her vision of the future. Even her methods and the war they would require she shared freely.

But when it came to talking about her deal with Kostas, she found that her tongue had grown heavy.

She looked down into the cup of Bergamot that her sensei had thoughtfully prepared for her. It's perfect shade of orange brown was evidence of Byleth's exquisite skill at preparing tea. They had snuck away out of the Entrance Hall and into his room, away from creeping Monicas and eavesdropping Huberts. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she picked up the cup and sipped. She frowned; the brew had gone cold. Removing a glove, she stuck finger into the tepid liquid and muttered a short incantation. When she sipped again, it was pleasantly warm, and she hummed.

“A useful skill.” It was the first time her sensei had spoken since she had begun her long monologue.

She smiled. “My uncle taught it to me, originally. My real uncle, I mean.” The smile slipped. She must tell him. “Sensei... I-” She swallowed. “Those bandits who attacked near Remire at the beginning of the year. I hired them.”

He sat up that that, seemingly surprised for the first time. “As the Flame Emperor?”

“Yes. I'm not proud of it, but...” When the flickering lamplight played across the tea's surface, it almost appeared to catch fire. “I don't want there to be any more lies between us.” Not after what he'd said about standing by her side. She had no doubts anymore after that display.

He was silent for a moment. Edelgard imagined he was turning the piece of information she'd revealed around in his head, as if it were a blade he were inspecting for defects. “Why?”

She sighed, tears threatening their stinging encroachment again. This time, she did not relish the feeling. “Both Faerghus and the Leicester would face major crises if their heirs were to die. The Alliance in particular would be unlikely to survive. And that would...” Her voice caught in her throat.

“It would make your vision easier to achieve.”

She nodded. If the other two polities in Fodlan dissolved into civil war, her war against the Church would be a quick one. Otherwise, they would almost certainly join in the war against Adrestia. Both owed their existence to the independent power of the Church of Seiros, and without it, both would surely be swallowed up again in short order. It had made sense. Hubert had called the move a masterstroke when she'd shared it with him. The Empire, thanks to the disgusting incompetence of Ferdinand's father and the cold indifference of the monster with her uncle's face, had become choked with bandits. Why not lure one up north with the promise of fat lucre, right at the time that the leaders of each of the Three Houses were out training with their new, as yet untested professor? And why not? She had no relationship with Claude von Riegan, and while she and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd may be related by the marriage of her birth mother to his birth father, she had never met the boy before coming to the monastery. And yet...

“I still don't understand.” Byleth's voice was soft. Edelgard forced herself to meet his gaze, lifted it up away from the play of light and shadow in the cup in front of her. “If you truly wished to see Claude and Dimitri dead, you would have lingered behind, letting us rush ahead. But you didn't. We outpaced those two princes, you and I. You matched me step for step. You almost died doing it after you had to toss that bent axe aside. Their leader almost took your head. So I ask again: Why?”

She couldn't say. It was far too embarrassing, felt far too self-serving of a thing to offer up like a lamb to slaughter. Especially as the town in question had already been given over to dark gods. She felt tears threaten to dam up again, was forced to bring a gloved hand up to her downturned brow to block his view of her face. Still, he drew the moment out, oblivious to his own sadism.

“Because of Remire?” His voice was so gentle and was thus all the more harsh. She sobbed. His hand found hers, pressed against the handle of her teacup, and wrapped it in a warm embrace. “It's alright, Edelgard. You can tell me. You can tell me anything.” He squeezed.

She forced her face back into a semblance of order. “Yes. Because of Remire. When Claude pulled the bandits there... they didn't deserve to die like that. Unknowing instruments of my will.” Her hand fell away, freeing her vision to look on him again. “And... and after you stopped that man, Kostas, I was glad.” The phrase she had often thought entered her mind again. “You saved me in more than one way that day. Claude and Dimitri didn't deserve that fate anymore than the villagers did.” She searched his face, desperate to see that nothing there had changed.

He nodded. “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

Breaking eye contact, his gaze looked past her, over her shoulder.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Sensei?” Startled, she turned, trying to see what he saw. She half expected to see someone with green hair listening in. But there was nothing there. She rounded back on him. “Who are you talking to?”

“Sothis.”

“_Who_?”

He'd continued to look beyond her. Whatever affirmation he sought he seemed to get, judging by the way his eyes, which had been tight, relaxed. He swung his vision back to meet hers looking decisive; yet he paused before beginning. “It is... a long story.” She saw his jaw worry back and forth. “Perhaps it is best to start at the beginning.” Reaching into his cloak, he produced a thick, leather bound journal, and placed it in front of her. “My father's. I stole it from his office. I feel a bit bad about it, but, well... I think in the end he wanted me to search for it. He was never a man for direct conversation about this sort of thing. Open to where I marked it.”

There was a silk ribbon about two-thirds of the way into the volume. She did as he asked and opened to it.

_Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon. All is cloudy. I can't believe she's dead. Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth? And still, the child she traded her life for doesn't make a sound. Didn't even cry at birth._

_Day 25 of the Horsebow Moon. It's raining. The baby doesn't laugh or cry. Not ever. Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn't cry... isn't natural. I had a doctor examine the child in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there's no hearbeat. No hearbeat!_

Her heart wrenched. He'd read this? Read his own father call him unnatural?

_Day 2 of the Wyvern Moon. Sunny. I feel I must take the child and leave. But the Church is always watching us... I don't know what Lady Rhea has planned. I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. Now I'm terrified of her._

_Day 8 of the Wyvern Moon. More rain. I used the fire that broke out last night to fake the child's death. Lady Rhea is in a state over the news, but I can't change what I've done. I've got to take the child and leave..._

“Sensei...” Again, she felt her voice catch in her throat. So much about this man who she had tried so desperately to understand now made sense to her. As did his apparent distrust of the Church... and the Archbishop. But her curiosity was only whetted. She scanned ahead, looking for any other clues she could discern. “What did that woman do to you?”

He answered her question with a question, a habit she was more than used to. “Do you know what the Crest Stones are?”

“Not... precisely. I know they're connected to the Children of the Goddess, in some way.”

“They are their hearts.” He put his hand to his chest. “Rhea implanted the Crest of Flames, Sothis's Crest, right here. The woman you call the Goddess, the one who bore all those Children, that is who Sothis is. Rhea took her Crest Stone and bound it to my heart, ensuring it would never beat.”

She nodded. “That's why the Sword lights up for you.” At her sensei's insistence, she'd tried wielding the sword once. Despite her own Crest of Flames, the weapon had not only stayed dormant, but had proved incredibly heavy to hold. Actually using it effectively in battle had seemed impossible. “But... how do you know that, Sensei? Jeralt says nothing about it in these pages.”

He sighed. It was a heavy thing. “It is a long story,” he repeated.

“I told you earlier that I only ever saw color in my dreams? Those dreams were the first clue that Sothis dwelt inside of me. There were three dreams I dreamt most often. The first was a girl with pointed ears sleeping atop a stone throne. Later, I would come to realize that this was Sothis herself. Eventually, she would awaken and talk to me, but that was not until the night we met. The second dream was of armies clashing on a muddy field. A woman in white fighting a dark-gray man, defeating him, killing him. The man wielded the same Sword I do now, but it did him no good. He fell. Now, I know this was Nemesis and Seiros.”

“Rhea.” She felt her spine quiver. The moment from history she had thought over perhaps more than any other, the moment that had decided the fate of Fodlan forever... Could her sensei really have seen it in his dreams?

“Yes, Rhea.” Now he was the one to stare down into his tea. “The third dream... the third dream I have is different. The other two... the first was like I was awake. I felt the same, which is to say I felt nothing. It was more boring, really, than anything, looking at some sleeping child that would not wake for years. The second dream was like reading about a story in a book, though perhaps more vivid than my imagination has ever proved. It was all happening to other people, though. While it was exciting to see lance meet lance and sword meet flesh, nerve wracking to watch Seiros clash with Nemesis, I felt nothing beyond that. Nothing I wouldn't have felt in my life as mercenary. Less, even, as I was nowhere near as invested in the life and death of any of the figures on that Plain than I was in my father's

“But that third dream... that was the one I saw in color.” His voice hitched. Edelgard leaned forward in her seat. What had gotten into him? “That was the one I felt. Still feel. It still haunts me at night to this day. I still wake up crying sometimes, as pathetic as that sounds.” The bitter laugh that wracked him hurt her heart.

“Sensei...” To her, it didn't sound pathetic at all. She herself could only ever remember crying in her dreams. Until tonight, anyway. “What happens in the dream?”

“There's a woman in red at the foot of a grand staircase leading up to an ornate throne. I know her, that I'm sure of. That fact beats within me in the way my heart never has. I _know_ her. I've failed her. The tragedy of it is like poison on my tongue. We were close once. She'd trusted me once. But I'd lost that trust without even realizing it. And now she's hurt, wounded, doubled over with exhaustion. She speaks to me, and her words are kind. She understands me, as she always does. Understands what I'm thinking, what I want and don't want. And yet she knows what _needs_ to be done. She is firm and unyielding: I must kill her. It was always thus. And so... and so...” The teacup in front of him rattled. Mirroring his motion from before, she embraced his hand in hers, stilling it. “I cut her down.”

He raised his eyes, finally. The two blue orbs were devoid of any doubt. “That woman was you, Edelgard.”

She had already guessed. If anyone else had told her this story, she would have called them insane. But not him. His eyes shown clear. “Sensei...”

“I knew it from the moment I saw you in the waking world, when the three of you approached us in Remire for help. I couldn't take my eyes off you, do you remember? It was like you'd walked out of my dreams. And you were as glorious and resplendent as I remembered. The two of us cut our way through those bandits as easily as a hot knife through butter. It all clicked so easily, without words, like the steps to a dance we both knew by heart. Your axe and my sword, twinned. I'd never felt that level of synergy with anyone in battle, even my father. That's why when their leader charged at you, I panicked. You'd lost your weapon, had only that thin dagger against his heavy axe. Everything slowed. I could see what would happen if I did nothing, saw that I would lose you before I'd even learned your name. So I lept in between you.”

“You disarmed him so easily.” Edelgard could not keep the proud hum out of her voice as she shifted her thighs.

“No, not the first time.” The answer made her frown in confusion again. “I should have, but I wasn't thinking clearly. All I could think was _Not again_. And so instead of my sword, I put my body in the way of Kostas's blade, felt it cut into my flesh.”

That was most definitely _not_ what happened. Her frown deepened. “Sensei...”

“I know, that's not how you remember it.” He inhaled, long and deep. “I have already placed a heavy burden on your trust in me, I know. But this is true. As the steel tore through my skin, time _stopped_. It wasn't the adrenaline stretching out the moment as it had before. It was her. Sothis. The Goddess. She froze the hands of time and pulled me into my own mind, to that simple stone throne I had dreamed of so many times.” He smiled. “She was quite irate, something I have come to expect from her. She lectured me about the foolishness of throwing away my and her life so easily, emphasized the importance of caution and tact. Then, she turned those same hands of time back, back to right before Kostas charged.”

It was all so incredible. And yet, as always, her sensei rendered her credulous.

“From there, things went as you remember them. The second time, I was ready. For all his size, Kostas lacked skill. It was a simple thing to turn the power of his charge back on him, to send him and his axe flying with a simple flick of my wrist. I should have done it the first time, but then I suppose I would not have learned about the tenant living in my head if I had.” Her sensei chuckled at something. Seeing her confusion, he explained. “Sothis did not like the implications of being called a tenant.”

She nodded, even though she could not come close to understanding. “And this... this woman. What is she like?” She felt a twinge of something in her chest with that question. _What is she to you?_

He stopped to think. “She speaks like an old woman. More formally than Ferdinand, even. And yet she appears to be a child of perhaps 6 or 7, with bright green hair and pointed ears. Huh?” His gaze looked beyond Edelgard again. “Yes, I said a child. Yes, you do! Don't get angry at me! I didn't choose what you look like.”

A child. The twinge unhooked itself. “And she told you she was the Goddess?” A bold claim.

“No. At that point, she knew only her name. And her epithet: The Beginning. Progenitor god is what her children call her among themselves, though neither of us knew that. We only unraveled that puzzle over time.” His mood had shifted now. Whereas before each word had seemed to squeeze out of him, laced with dread, now they flowed easily. He seemed excited. “This is... I know it must seem confusing. I haven't been able to talk to anyone about this. It was hard to think of it as real.”

She felt something in her grow warm. “Well. Thank you for trusting me, sensei.” She wasn't sure she deserved it, if she were honest. And yet, again, she would put her faith in him. “When you say you two unraveled the puzzle, what do you mean?”

“As I said, she remembers nothing before waking up in my head. But there are stirrings... like at the Red Canyon.” Edelgard had suspected something had happened there after her sensei had snuck off alone to visit those ruins. “And more than that... my dreams began to shift after I met you. While the dream where I- the dream at Enbarr. While that still comes to me, I began to dream of other things. Of my students as adults at war. Of battles that have yet to be fought. Little glimpses of something, much less defined than that... that other dream. Sothis grew concerned about them, when I spoke to her of it. She said it did not seem natural. She insisted that we spend time pouring over them together in hopes that we could discover what was going on with me.

“At first it seemed futile. When I tried to remember the details behind a certain dream, it all fell apart. It was like trying to fill a sieve with sand. But eventually, I reached a breakthrough. It was the feelings that were key. If I just concentrated on the events themselves, the hows and the whys, I got nowhere. But if I focused in on the emotions behind the images...” He looked down. Any hint of eagerness in his speech was gone again. “The pride of seeing my students come together. The despair of seeing Caspar felled by a Demonic Beast. The self-hatred that came with seeing Dorothea fall because of my own mistakes. The bitter disappointment of having to fell Hubert. Then the memories would unfurl, would lead to others. I could begin to piece it together, that other life. That other world.”

“Sensei...” she tightened her hand around his. What horror was this? “What are you saying?”

“Just as I lived that moment with Kostas twice, so have I lived out these days at the Monastery once before. And the war to come. It has happened before. Sothis did not want to believe it at first. She called it impossible. Her power to turn back time is limited. It can usually got back seconds, perhaps minutes, but years? She did not want to accept it. And yet it is so. We've both seen it. I've been given a second chance. A chance to undo the mistakes I made. A chance to walk by your side.”

She was quiet for a moment. He watched her until she'd taken it in and was ready to respond. “Tell me. Tell me what happened in that other world.”

“Up to this point, much the same. I have tried not to change things so that the dreams from that other world can still be a good guide. Even when I have tried to alter fate, so far I've mostly failed. Remire, for example. I thought, forearmed, that I could stop Solon, that if we left earlier, got their sooner, were more proactive... but it didn't matter. They still died.” That pain was back in his voice and face and Edelgard could not bear it.

“'Got there sooner.' Are you saying that in this other world, we didn't arrive until later?”

He nodded. “Rhea and Seteth did not take what was happening at Remire seriously enough. They wanted to wait until the end of Red Wolf Moon so that classes would not be disrupted. We didn't leave until word of the afflicted going wild and attacking had already reached Garreg Mach.”

“And this time you insisted we leave immediately.” Edelgard seized on this. “Sensei, you can't tell me things went exactly the same, can you? Surely we saved more people than in that other world!”

He looked up at her. His eyes were shining. “Yes... we did.” He smiled, weakly. “Sothis has been trying to get me to focus more on that fact as well.”

“So. Things aren't so hopeless after all.” Her hand, still holding his, squeezed. “Tell me, my sensei. At the very least it will make you feel better.”

He nodded. Then he began.

“As I said to you in the village, I believe Those Who Slither in the Dark, as Hubert calls them, saw the danger of our joining forces. Remire was a first attempt to split us, but not the last. At the end of next month, the day after the ball, Monica will lead an attack using students transformed into those Demonic Beasts. Afterwards, she will kill my father. That will be the real start of the sorrow. In that other world, I didn't listen to you when you tried to tell me about enemies and allies and divergent interests: I blamed the Flame Emperor. I came, in time, to blame you. Those Who Slither achieved their goal.

“But that was not all. The murder of my father was also the baiting of a trap. Consumed by rage, I pursued Monica into the Sealed Forest on the outskirts of the Monastery. There, Solon waited. He and the rest of those dark mages knew that, thanks to the power of Sothis, I could not be killed so easily. So he tried to trap me in a place of infinite darkness, a void that I could never escape from. He failed. Sothis sacrificed herself, merging our two consciousnesses together so that I could unleash her full power. I carved my way out of the prison he had wrought for me and killed Solon.

“And yet... something else shifted then. The memory I have of the moment after emerging from the tear the Sword of the Creator carved in space, the moment where we came face to face again, is... different from the others. It's like the page of a book that has been gone over too many times. Faded, worried by one too many fingers running over its contents. I went over that memory in my head many, many times in that other world, I believe, reflecting back on it with sadness and regret. Those emotions are stained into the memory on a level so deep I cannot recall the triumph I must have originally felt.

“I had been changed, you see, by merging with Sothis. My hair and eyes and brightened to the same teal shade of Rhea and her family's. You approached me, cautious. You asked what happened, and I told you I had been blessed by the Goddess. And you sighed. It was a long, heavy thing, like you were letting go of some great burden that had been crushing you under its weight. I must have been confused, originally. But later, I understood. That was the moment when Hubert's warnings rang true, when you stopped seeing me as someone who could walk the path you had set for yourself. That is when you gave up on me.”

_Then that other me was a fool._ She did not say this out loud, did not want to interrupt him for fear that he would stop his story again. Instead, she squeezed all the harder on his hand, as if to say that _she_ would never leave him like that.

“After that, events moved outside of my control and beyond my sight. Rhea was ecstatic. This was the culmination of a long effort. She had put the Crest Stone inside of me as a child hoping this would happen, that I would manifest the soul of her long dead mother. She planned to take me down into the Holy Tomb, seat me on Sothis's throne, and watch her mother emerge to take my body as her own. At the same time, you and Hubert were acting in secret as well. You ascended the throne of your father and prepared to launch your war. Both plots came to a head down in that Tomb. You attacked in the middle of Rhea's ceremony, announced yourself as the Flame Emperor, and made war against me and the other Black Eagles.

“I didn't understand, couldn't make it add up. On the one hand, even in that world, I felt connected to you, more connected than to anyone else I'd ever met. On the other, you'd killed my father. And now you were attacking me and your classmates. And whatever regrets I'm sure you felt on the inside, you did not let them show. You never do, convinced that they are your burdens to bear in secret. And so I stood with Rhea, and we were enemies. From there, it was inevitable that I would end up in the scene that haunts my dreams: staring down at you, a defeated woman in red in front of an ornate throne, forced to end your life.

“I will not allow that to happen again. _We_ cannot allow that to happen again.”

“Of course not, sensei!” Edelgard felt her eyes flash. “Obviously, Monica must die. We can find some way to explain it away, both to the staff and to my 'uncle'.”

“He must die as well.”

That gave her pause. “Sensei... I... that is not as easy as saying it. Do not mistake me, I do not love the man-”

“I know, Edelgard.” Now, he squeezed her hand. “I know what he did to you, what he did to your family. I know you must fear him, but you shouldn't.”

“I- it is not a matter of fear, sensei!” She felt blood rush into her cheeks. “He is _powerful_. His position within the Empire is very strong. He is regent, and he commands a significant force of arms. And that's nothing compared to his power as the leader of those mages. Hubert and I have been able to find next to nothing out about them, but their technology and magic is beyond anything the rest of Fodlan can even dream of.”

“And you think you need that power to achieve your dreams.” It was not an accusation, it was a statement of fact. That made it hurt all the worse, however. She let go of his hand.

“I...” She looked away. “The Church is strong, sensei. And they will have the backing of Leicester and Faerghus as well, it is inevitable. Am I to turn away the power to defeat them simply because of my own sentiment, my desire for revenge?”

“Hubert's words. What do _you_ want, Edelgard?”

“It's not a matter of wanting, either!” Her ire was up now. “If the world were the kind of place that gave a woman like me what I want, I would never have become heir! My brothers and sisters would still be alive and I would be living a happy life with them and my mother back in Enbarr! I would be free from all these burdens!”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“Fine! Yes! I want to kill him. I want to drive a knife into the monster's throat and watch his eyes as he dies! I want to grind them all into dust! I want to make sure that no other family has to suffer like mine suffered, like Lysithea's suffered! What good does that do anyone, that want!?” She was standing now, tea forgotten, face fully red. “An attack on my uncle and his friends right now would be suicidal. We are blind, sensei!”

He was silent for a moment, studying her. His voice when he spoke again was gentle. “Edelgard, your greatest flaw is that you lack confidence in yourself.”

“I-” The surprise she felt at that admonition took the anger out of her sails. Usually his observations were much more astute. “Confidence? Really? How can you say that about me?”

“Not in the strength of your muscles. You are fully aware of how potent you are in a physical sense. Nor in the power of your mind. Your reason is a finely tuned instrument. No. You lack faith in your heart, Edelgard.”

She thought of that blackened, atrophied organ sitting in her chest. “My heart?”

“In that other world, the other Black Eagles would have died for you. If you'd tried even a little to bring them to your side they would have followed you to hell and back. As would I. But you didn't even try. You are a leader, Edelgard. You are beautiful and brave and inspiring. And your cause is just. How many students at this monastery do you think have had their lives ruined by the Crest system? Most if not all. How many do you think would flock to your standard if you waged this crusade of yours in the open instead of from the shadows? You weaken yourself by acting like them, like the Agarthans.”

Edelgard retook her seat. “Agarthans?”

“That is what your uncle and his friends call themselves. We are not as blind as you think, you see. In that other world, the Agarthans launched a weapon against us after we took Fort Merceus, a giant lance of light that destroyed the entire castle. Hubert tracked its trajectory and discovered its point of origin: the home city of the Agarthans. Shambala, they call it. He delivered the information to us in a posthumous letter after we took Enbarr.

“We went there and crushed them. They hide themselves in the shadows because they are weak, a spent force. You hide yourself because you fear your own strength. Fear the fire you could spark if you reached out your hand.”

She sat in her chair, unsure of what to say. His words scared her, but more than that they beat with a truth that resonated deep inside of her. She remembered her dream of flames.

“It's a lot to ask of you, I know,” Byleth continued. “You don't have to make your mind up now. We have plenty of time to plan a strategy, especially once we remove the threat of Monica.” He yawned, and she suddenly felt her own exhaustion, was forced to yawn in spite of herself. “For now, we should get some rest. It has been a long day, and dawn will arrive soon.”

“Of course.” She stood again. “Thank you for the tea, sensei.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Edelgard. I will not betray your trust. And thank you for listening to my story, as incredible as it is.” He froze suddenly, tilting his head to listen to something she could not hear. “Ah. This is awkward, but... Sothis wants to say something to you.”

“She does?” Edelgard looked around again, stupidly, then chided herself. “Um, how?”

“I'll say her words for her, I suppose.” He cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. “I, uh, haven't done this before but... here we go.”

He stepped forward and took her hand. When he spoke, his speech was slightly stilted as he repeated the words of the little invisible Goddess Edelgard could not see and could hardly believe that she believed existed. “Child. The burdens you carry are quite heavy, you are right. It is because my own failure that you must bear them at all. So please, I beg that you do not let them weigh you down overmuch. Take the time to enjoy your youth and live the life you have been gifted with. And this one-”

Byleth stopped, and when he spoke again he did not seem to be repeating anymore. “No, I'm not going to say that.” He winced, and tilted his head away from something that, judging by his expression, seemed quite loud. “Ow. Ow! Alright, stop yelling, I'll say it!”

“And this one-” he began again, his voice taking on that odd halting quality. “-this stubborn boy whose body I share. He too burdens himself overmuch with guilt and responsibility. Look after him for me, won't you? As you just saw, he does not always listen to my wise counsel.”

She didn't quite know how to respond to that. So instead, she busied herself by cleaning up the tea set they had just used. Byleth joined her, and together they folded the small circular table in the center of the room and placed it back in his closet, wordless the entire time.

After they were done, he made to walk her to the door. But she paused, lingering near his bed. She looked at it out of the corner of her eye.

“Sensei... forgive me but-” She felt the crimson spread across her cheeks. “Can I... stay here tonight?”

Surprised, he blinked. “In my room?”

“Ever since word of Remire, the nightmares have been worse. After what we went through in the village today, I know they'll be especially bad. And I... feel safe around you.” The blush deepened. She kept looking at the covers of that bed, thinking of what might happen in the night. Of their bodies so close to each other, of their heat intermingling and mixing. She felt her lips part as she thought of what Sothis had said about looking after her sensei. Perhaps they could stay awake a little longer...

He was silent for a long while, and her curiosity about what he was thinking eventually forced her to look over at him. His face was blank, but she could see the fingers of his right hand flexing as they bunched into a fist. “Of course,” he said at last, but it sounded odd, too natural after such a long delay. Still her heart lept.

“Thank you, sensei. I'll try not to take up too much room, I know your bed is sma-”

“I'll sleep on the floor. I have a bedroll.”

“Oh...” she said, trying not to sound disappointed.

It was not easy to fall asleep, once she had lain down in his bed, with him so near and yet so far. She thought perhaps that this had been a mistake, that she had embarrassed herself by being so forward. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. She was a foolish, lovesick girl.

And yet, as she had predicted, she dreamed a dreamless sleep. He kept her nightmares at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it: that's why Byleth was acting contrary to canon. Hopefully I telegraphed the twist enough and it was satisfying. Sound off in the comments on what you think either way.
> 
> Poor Edelgard getting shot down at the end there... Byleth really doesn't listen to Sothis's wise counsel. More slow burn to come before we can bump the rating on this fanfic up a notch!


	6. Kronya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Even more late this time. I have a good excuse though! My laptop died and I lost a bunch of work. I nearly despaired and gave up, but the encouragement I got from the comments here and elsewhere convinced me to keep going. Hopefully rewriting made this chapter better, but I'll leave that for you to judge.

He looked so tranquil lying there the next morning. Edelgard watched his chest rise and fall, listening to the gentle sound of his breathing. Someone who did not know her sensei well would say his face looked as blank as ever, but she knew better. There was a tightness that had been loosened, an edge that the peace of sleep had smoothed out, that brought a light feeling to Edelgard’s heart. He’d spoken last night of the nightmares that sometimes haunted his sleep, but there was no evidence of that on his countenance now. Did he take as much comfort from her presence as she had from his?

Unable to resist, she bent down kissed his cheek. “Arigato, sensei.” Then, stepping over his slumbering form, she made her way to the door.

She opened it slowly, peeking out into the darkness. Dawn had yet to break --she had rose as early as she always did-- but she had no desire to cause controversy for her sensei by being spotted sneaking out of his room. So she looked carefully before slipping out into the brisk morning air. She did not see Byleth, behind her, bring his hand up to touch where her lips had brushed his face.

The red tendrils of the sun were just beginning to peek up over the horizon, bathing Garreg Mach in orange light. There was a serene stillness to this time of day that had always captivated her. Not wanting to break it, Edelgard managed to resist the urge to hum. She’d told her sensei everything, things she’d never told anyone else. And not only had he not recoiled from her in horror, he had taken her into his trust in turn. It was more than she could have even dared to dream of. There was a skip to her step on the walk back to her room. 

The mood was ruined as she turned past the greenhouse and into the Monastery proper. The cause, waiting outside the staircase up to the second floor dormitories, leered at her.

“Edel-chan!” The creature’s face turned upward in a pantomime of a smile, it’s voice saccharine-sweet as it winked at her. “Out late? I hope you weren’t having too much fun.”

“Monica.” Edelgard cursed silently. Inevitable though it was, she had hoped to put this conversation off for at least for a little while longer. But the monster with her uncle’s face demanded his accounting of what happened at Remire. “I hope you weren’t waiting here long. Come to my room. We can talk there..”

* * *

“What did you tell her?” her sensei asked.

It was later that day, right after morning classes had ended. Edelgard had stayed behind even as the rest of the Black Eagles had packed and left for the Dining Hall.

“I told her that I was trying to maintain appearances, just as I had been in the Holy Mausoleum. I told her I wasn’t really trying to kill Solon, and I reminded her that the only reason I was put into a position where I needed to attack him was that he chose to stick around to gloat instead of leaving the moment he was put in danger, as would have been prudent.”

“How did she take it?”

“Well, Monica is psychotic.” She thought back to that moment Petra had interrupted, right before they’d left for Remire. “If it was her choice, I’d say she would have killed me right there. But I believe my uncle is likely to believe me. Based on what I’ve seen, those people don’t hold even each other in very high regard. I doubt he will be seriously angered.”

Her sensei nodded. “And did she remark on your going into my room? She was almost certainly following us.”

Edelgard felt her cheeks flush. “Ah, yes. She did.” Monica had remarked on it _ quite _ extensively. And pointedly.

“Will that be a problem?”

“N-no. I think I managed to play it off.” She looked away. Her excuse had been that her sensei needed… reassuring… if she was going to keep her cover. Monica had grinned mockingly at the use of this obvious euphemism on her part. She would not repeat it to her sensei: she’d embarrassed herself enough in front of him already.

Luckily, he did not not push for details, merely nodding. “Good. I think it would be best if we avoid late night meetings in my room from now on. They could be… misinterpreted.”

“Of course, sensei.” She struggled to hide the disappointment that flared up at that last word. She was aided on this front by a sudden interruption.

“Sensei! I’ve got a question about- Oh, Princess. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Claude stood in the doorway to the classroom. Edelgard frowned at him. The boy’s use of that title never failed to get under her skin. He was aware of her desire to eschew formalities, that she saw Garreg Mach as an oasis where she could shed such things and be, for once in her life, like everyone else. And yet he never missed an opportunity to rub her position in her face. And that was not all! He smuggled informality into his ironic formality, just to spite her. Strictly speaking, the proper term should be _ Imperial _ Princess, as the heir to Leicester’s Sovereign Duke well knew. His failure to use the proper adjective grated, and it annoyed her that it annoyed her.

Her sensei seemed oblivious to the slight. “Ah, Claude. No interruption. Edelgard and I were just finishing up.” Byleth turned to her. “We can continue this discussion later this afternoon. Stop by my office.”

Focus was elusive for the rest of the day. She was entirely within her own head, careless to the world around her. Fantasies bloomed afresh: the seizure of Garreg Mach and the effective center of Fodlan, the same prize a much younger her had dreamed seizing with armies marched through mountain passes.The end of noblesse oblige and all assorted nonsense. Her sensei and she… what had he said about their weapons? Twinned. She and her sensei twinned together. Her fingers itched for a pen, a sketch demanding to be drawn.

“Edelgard.” Hanneman’s tone was sharp. She realized, startled, that he had repeated himself.

“Yes, sensei!” She fought a losing battle against the crimson. Hanneman continued to level that expectant gaze at her. Panicked, she studied the board. The diagram chalked on it made no sense to her. It must have been new material. With all the distraction of Remire and its aftermath, she had, to her shame, fallen behind. “I… uh.”

“Pay more attention in the future, Edelgard.” The mild reproach stung more than she cared to admit. “Lysithea. Please tell us the correct answer.”

The young girl from House Cordelia obeyed. As soon as she did, the entire edifice of the problem clicked into view for Edelgard. But by then it was too late. Failure stung at her pride.

And yet even then, distraction did not wane. It only waxed as her thoughts turned to the new figure in her life. The Goddess, as it turned out, was real. Sothis. She had a name, a form, a voice, albeit one she could not hear. And, most astonishingly of all, she (Or should it be She? Should she think in capitals about the little goddess?) seemed to sympathize with a heretic, an apostate, like her. It made her head spin, lent an edge of unreality to this world she thought she understood.

Caspar, unburdened by such thoughts, got under her guard and delivered a sharp punch to her solar plexus. That finally snapped her back out of her head at the same time it knocked the wind out of her. She doubled over, dropping to one knee, as the younger boy relished in his victory.

“YOOOOOSH!” He pumped his fist. “Did you see that, Manuela-sensei? A clean hit! Finally!”

“Yes, yes. Very good Caspar,” replied the retired songstress. After Jeritza’s disappearance, Manuela and Byleth had split the practical combat teaching duties that the Viscount of House Hrym had abandoned. Today was Manuela’s turn. “You’re still forecasting your strikes too much. Tighten up more, like we talked about. Are you alright, Edelgard? That certainly looked like it hurt. We can swap you out for Petra, if you’d like to take a breather.”

Edelgard glared over at the only slightly taller boy, still glorying in his triumph. Her frustrations had found a target. “No. Let’s go again.”

“Atta girl!” Manuela cried, shooting her a characteristic wink. “Get right back on that horse! Alright you two, back to starting positions.”

This time, Edelgard grabbed his arm (Manuela really was right about him being too obvious with his movements) and flipped him over her shoulder, slamming him down with the considerable momentum of his own strike. Seeing him sprawled out flat on his ass made her feel a bit better.

For his own part, Caspar seemed to be nothing but delighted at the move. It was hard to stay annoyed at the boy for long.

Finally, with the end of combat practice in the Training Hall, she was free to meet with her sensei. Their conversation was short, but productive. They would wait until the end of the week before acting. Because Monica had seemed to have been fooled by her explanation, it would be best to allow her to be debriefed by the monster with her uncle’s face first.

“Then,” her sensei said, blank faced as always, “we three can have a conversation.”

Edelgard nodded. “Yes, sensei. I agree that’s best.” It would be suspicious if Monica were to fail to report right after Remire. “But where? It will have to be somewhere… quiet. Where we won’t be disturbed.”

“I have an idea.”

* * *

And so, for the third night in a row, she found herself hunched down in a thicket next to her sensei. They had been staking out a small, half collapsed chapel on the western edge of the Monastery, a building as decrepit as the ruins that surrounded it. Edelgard had wondered, idly, why precisely this section of Garreg Mach had been allowed to fall into such decay. Could it have been that fire Jeralt had mentioned in his diary? But why hadn’t it been rebuilt since?

Not that she was able to focus on such questions right now. These late night sojurns had increased the distraction plaguing her.

He was _ so close _. It was a necessity: out here it was so dark she could barely see five feet in front of her. But she could smell him, hear each breath he took, feel the heat coming off of his body in the cold night. Trying to put words to his scent had become an invasive thought over the past couple of days. Vanilla perhaps, with its sweetness, though that did not quite capture all of it. Something more. Cinnamon, perhaps? A touch of some kind of spice was there, swirling in her nose.

What did she smell like to him? The thought came into her mind in that moment, suddenly and without warning, and would not leave.

And then, suddenly, out in the darkness, a spark of something red came at last. Torchlight. She felt her sensei stiffen next to her. A moment later, Monica, creeping along as always, came into view through the trees as she shuffled towards the chapel and through the broken arch of its entryway. Wordlessly, Edelgard followed her, the soft leather foot wrappings she had borrowed from Petra muffling her footsteps.

Inside, Monica was kneeling, torch held high as she ran a hand over the cold stone of the chapel’s floor. It seemed to be searching for something. A hidden door, perhaps? Her sensei had speculated that, in that other world, it had hidden the students it’d kidnpapped over the course of the next month here. Well, it would never get the chance now.

“Monica,” she said. The creature started before jumping to its feet and whirling around to the doorway. Edelgard enjoyed the reversal of their usual dynamic, of coming on it unguarded instead of the other way around. Monica’s eyes narrowed as they flickered from Edelgard’s face to the axe in her hands.

“So.” Steel glinted in the torch light as a curved dagger came into view. “I _ was _ right. You are a traitor.”

“I’ve betrayed no one.” Edelgard’s grip on her axe tightened. “Come, Monica. I’ve waited for this for a very long time.”

But Monica did not come. Perhaps it sought the safety of darkness, cover from which it might ambush Edelgard in turn. Perhaps it intended to report this treachery to the monster with her uncle’s face. Or, perhaps it was simply afraid. Whatever the reason, Monica turned and ran towards the chapel’s smaller side entrance.

Only standing there in what use to be a doorway before the wood had rotted or burnt away was her sensei, silver sword in hand.

Monica slid to a stop, the torch in her hand sputtering. It cursed, trapped. “You! So, Edel-chan ran to her precious professor.” A sneer slashed across the creature’s stolen face. “What sob story did she tell you? Not the truth, I’d guess.”

“You’ve guessed wrong, then. Edelgard told me precisely what you are.”

“Did she? Did she also tell you that she’s the Flame Emperor?” Triumph lit in its eyes.

“Yes.” 

That light dampened, but did not go out. “Really? Did she also tell you that she and that crazed knight with a death fetish of hers helped me get into this stinking place to begin with?”

“Yes,” her sensei repeated.

Monica’s eyes widened. Its voice grew desperate. “Did she tell you that she was the one who hired those bandits that you ‘saved’ her from?”

Now it was Edelgard’s turn to be surprised. How had they known that? What else did they know?

Byleth, however, was unperturbed. “Yes,” he answered again. He took a step forward; she stepped back. “You’ll find I know quite a bit, Kronya.”

A sick parody of a grin twisted its mouth, teeth flashing. “Ah, I see that you do. Well, if you know who I really am, then I don’t have to keep wearing this borrowed look.”

And then, in an instant, the creature changed. One moment, it wore an academy uniform and poor Monica’s face. Then, in the next, a completely different thing stood there. Skin a purplish-grey, its hair had lightened from red to orange, with bangs that extended out to cover Moni- no, Kronya’s right eye. The left was bisected with the tattoo of a teardrop. And as tacky as that was, it was nothing compared to what the thing was wearing: a skimpy black top that could barely contain Kronya’s voluminous cleavage. What kind of person would wear that into battle? And with the midriff exposed as well! It was just asking for someone to plunge a steel blade into something vital.

“So,” Kronya asked. “What else do you know, Byleth-sensei? I sooo want for you to teach me~” The way the creature squeezed its bosom together as it cooed at him was quite disgusting. Edelgard’s knuckles went white around her axe handle. What were they doing? They should end this now.

But Byleth seemed intent on dialogue. “I know that Thales and the others care nothing for you. I know they would discard you in an instant. Why die for them? You owe them nothing.”

Kronya laughed. “Oh, and I suppose you and Edel-chan want nothing for me but sweetness and light. How stupid do you think I am?”

Byleth shook his head. “This doesn’t need to come to violence. We can work together.”

“Sensei…” Edelgard said, warningly. Kronya was a cornered beast, dangerous. He was playing with fire. _ They should end this _. Why was he acting this way? Was it the breasts? Were men really all this shallow?

“Seems like your little student over there doesn’t agree!” Kronya leered at her. “There’s no way you surface dwellers could ever see me as anything but a monster.”

“I don’t see you as a monster.” Byleth took another step forward. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

“R-really?” Kronya’s voice seemed to falter, its eyes wide. “You could trust someone like me?”

Byleth lowered his sword and reached out his hand.

Edelgard saw the switch in the creature’s eyes right before it happened. Before she could shout a warning, Kronya made its move. The light of the torch _ vanished _, plunging the chapel into black night. There was the sick squelch of flesh being pierced and then the sound of metal clattering on stone.

“SENSEI!” she screamed into the darkness. No. No no no. Not like this. Not him too. Panicked, it took her a moment to summon a flame into the air, throwing light across the room once again.

Kronya was suspended in the air, a look of rage and shock stained on its face. Its hands were empty: two daggers lay discarded on the floor. Blood, ichor black, dripped and splattered onto it as well, pouring out of the hole Byleth’s sword had carved in the things’s throat. The weapon had been driven up through Kronya’s jaw and into her skull. Death must have been almost immediate.

Byleth withdrew the blade and let Kronya’s limp body fall to the ground. Edelgard struggled to breathe again, to slow the thunderous clapping of her heart in her chest.

“Sensei!” As color returned to her face, she felt her anger rising. “Don’t scare me like that!” A thought crossed her mind. “Mou! Did you have to use your power to reverse time just then? Didn’t you tell me you tried not to be wasteful with it! Why would you use it on that creature!”

Byleth was staring down at the corpse. “No… no I didn’t. That went about the way I expected it to. It would have been good to have her on our side. It would have made explaining things to your uncle easier, at the very least. And also…” He sighed. It was long, burdened with something heavy that Edelgard couldn’t fathom. “Well. At least her death was… better… this time.” He wiped the blood from his sword and returned it to its sheathe. But he didn’t stop looking down at the body.

She felt herself soften. Something greater was going on here. She gave him a moment before reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. “Come, sensei. Our night is not yet over.”

Finally, he looked away from Kronya’s crumpled form and met her eyes. He nodded.

* * *

Edelgard knocked on Professor Manuela’s door. Then, a moment later, she knocked again, louder.

She’d been hesitant about this aspect of Byleth’s plan. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Manuela-dono or Hanneman-dono: she did. They were both excellent teachers. True, Hanneman could sometimes lack for a personal touch. And she knew of the whispers and rumors that surrounded Manuela. _ Drunk. Desperate. Whore. _ But she paid these no mind. She was not one to give credence to such talk. And she could never feel that way about Manuela after hearing her sing. But still…

“Are you sure we can trust them, sensei?” she’d asked, back in his office. “I know they’re your colleagues. But still. They work for the Church of Seiros.”

“I am.” he’d responded. She’d mirrored his behavior that so irritated her: she’d remained silent, challenging him to justify himself. “In that other world I came from, both of them sided with you.”

That had intrigued her. Why would they do that? “Really? “

He’d nodded, hesitantly. “They were gone after I woke up from my five years asleep.”

He had told her about that before, the long gap of time he had experienced. She didn’t like when he talked about it. It made her feel sad, somehow. “Tell me, sensei. I can tell it’s making you upset.”

“I killed her. Manuela I mean. At Enbarr. She guarded the gates of the palace with her life. But it didn’t stop me.” The fingers of his right hand had flexed. “Dorothea killed Hanneman, near the Opera House. He was leading a relief force to try and cut us off from the city gates and trap us in the city. She was… distraught, afterwards.” He’d swallowed. It was a small thing, but she had learned to notice.

She waited another half minute before knocking again. Waiting out here, soaking in her own thoughts, was intolerable. This time, she heard something, some kind of rustling faintly through the wooden door. It grew louder, and nearer, before it wrenched the door open.

“What?” Manuela snapped, a thin cotton robe gripped at her chest. She blinked, surprised. “Oh, Edelgard.” She pulled the robe tighter around herself. “Um, do you know what time it is?”

“Yes, Manuela-dono. I’m sorry. But Byleth-sensei and I need your help.”

The older woman rubbed at her bleary eyes. “It couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s quite urgent.”

The former opera diva grumbled, but followed Edelgard; the two of them collected Hanneman, who was no happier to be awoken from his bed in the middle of the night, and together they made their way to the Crest Scholar’s office. Byleth was already waiting for them there. With coffee. Manuela gasped in delight.

“One cup milk and two sugars,” Byleth intoned, handing it to her.

“Oh, Professor, I take back everything bad I said about you,” Manuela gushed, taking a long sip. Edelgard hid a grin. That was quite a lot to take back. Manuela had been quite descriptive on their way across the Monastery about how inconsiderate and rude her sensei was to not only wake her up like this, but to send some poor student to do it for him.

“One cup no milk and one sugar.”

“Thank you.” Hanneman was more dignified as he accepted the gifted cup, but still frowned. “Now, what is this all about, Byleth? I have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, and I don’t?"

“Now now, Manuela, I did not mean to imply-"

“It will be faster just to show you,” Byleth interrupted. He reached down under Hanneman’s desk and hoisted up a long, heavy object wrapped up in one of Edelgard’s bed sheets and dropped it with a heavy THWAP on the wooden tabletop. One of the black-blood stained corners of the sheet fell away, revealing Kronya’s face, a look of shock still painted across it.

Manuela spat out her coffee.

“By the Goddess!” exclaimed Hanneman.

“Byleth, what the absolute fuck!” Manuela managed once she’d stopped choking. “Who is that?!”

“It was Monica,” Edelgard said, stepping forward. She would have perhaps introduced the subject a tad more gingerly, but at least he had headed off another argument. “Or rather, a creature pretending to be her. It called itself-”

“_She _ called herself Kronya,” Byleth finished. Edelgard fought against a frown. There was that defensiveness again, that guilt. This thing had killed his father in another life. Why then did he sound almost annoyed at her? Manuela stepped forward and began to examine the body. Something clicked in Edelgard’s mind as she watched the physician pull open one of Kronya’s eyes: her sensei was in a room that contained three women he had killed.

“Like Tomas…” Manuela said. She’d moved on to inspecting the body’s teeth.

“Manuela, please!” Hanneman protested. “You’ll get blood all over my desk.”

“Oh be quiet Hanneman!” she snapped back. “The blood has already clotted. Your precious desk will be fine.” She peeled back the rest of the sheet and looking at Kronya’s body more fully. “My my. Interesting choice of clothes. Not much for modesty, was she?” She began tapping up and down the corpse’s body, percussing it. “Musculature and bone structure seems identical to a normal human’s. The skin and blood pigment is interesting. I wonder if it suggests-” She stopped, frowning as she tapped under Kronya’s left breast. She repeated the motion. “That’s strange. Her thoracic cavity feels almost hollow.”

“Hollow?” Byleth asked. Edelgard’s ears perked up. “Are you sure?”

“_Almost _ hollow. There’s something in there but…” She frowned. “I’ll need to operate to be sure.”

“Not on my desk you certainly won’t!” Hanneman cried, real concern entering his voice. “Byleth! Why would you bring this body into my office in the first place!”

“It seemed the most efficient course of action.” Byleth blinked at him. “Whatever is in there, I’m confident we’ll need your instruments to identify it.”

“But- wait.” Hanneman hesitated. “My instruments? Are you suggesting that this poor unfortunate girl has some connection to the Crests?” Byleth nodded. “But still! The blood!”

“Oh quit whining!” Manuela admonished him. “You sound like an old woman!”

But in the end, he managed to prevail on her sensei. Together, she and Byleth rewrapped the corpse and hauled it across the hall to the Infirmary. There, with practiced skill and sharp scalpel, Manulea made a series of quick incisions into Kronya’s chest. From it, she withdrew something small and round. After cleaning it of blood, it became clear what it was: a Crest Stone.

Byleth did not seem surprised. Hanneman, on the other hand, was delighted, all slights at having been awoken and having his office despoiled forgotten.

“Fascinating!” he exclaimed. He turned it this way and that, like a child examining a new toy. “Simply fascinating! I do not recognize the Crest at all.”

Manuela, however, was more circumspect. “Byleth,” she asked, hesitantly. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“But you did know! You knew that Stone would be in there! You said we’d need Hanneman’s stupid instruments!”

“They are not stupid! They are quite sophisticated. I’ll have you know-”

“Shut it, Hanneman!” She turned back to Edelgard’s sensei. “What’s going on, Byleth?”

“I… cannot say. Not yet.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Manuela narrowed her eyes.

“A combination of both.”

“And I’m guessing you don’t want us to discuss this with Lady Rhea? Or Seteth?”

“What are you saying, Manuela?” Hanneman asked. “Why wouldn’t he want us to discuss it with them? I’m sure Seteth will want a full debriefing on everything that’s transpired tonight.”

“Hanneman, you idiot! If he wanted the rest of the Monastery to know what was going on he wouldn’t have woken us up in the middle of the night. Or am I wrong, Byleth-sensei?” She met his gaze unblinkingly.

“You are not.”

“What?” Hanneman seemed to have almost forgotten his new trinket. Almost. “What do you mean? You want us to keep this a secret?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Edelgard bit her cheek at this response. There was that wit again.

“I… I am not quite comfortable with that, Byleth.” Hanneman’s face had drained of color. “Manuela will no doubt call me a coward but… I am not a very good liar.”

“I would not ask you to lie. I will handle explaining what happened with Monica to Rhea.” He appraised both of his colleagues. “I must simply ask you to trust me. And Edelgard. Our investigation into this matter is very sensitive. Rhea and Seteth… they will complicate things. Both have a tendency to act first and question later. And besides-” he smiled at Hanneman. “Do you really think they’ll let you hold onto that rock?”

Hanneman clutched the thing to his chest, aghast.

Manuela sighed. “Well, I suppose we have no choice.” She winked at Edelgard. “I could never say no to two such passionate young people.”

What did that mean? Edelgard felt her cheeks color.

“I… yes.” Hanneman stroked the Crest Stone unconsciously, still cradling it like an infant. “We must not be too hasty. Yes. You should handle things, Byleth. I trust you.”

It was another half hour until Manuela was finished examining the body, though in the end she found nothing even half as interesting as the Crest Stone in place of Kronya’s heart. After examining the musculature of the creature’s right arm and pronouncing it highly developed but within human limits, the physician finally succumbed to the exhaustion she’d been complaining of ever since Edelgard had awoken her, and retired. Hanneman had long since retreated to his office with his new trophy, and would most likely be examining it for the rest of the night, if not week.

After Manulea left, the two of them hauled the corpse out into the forest and burned it. As the ashes settled, Byleth moved to leave, but Edelgard stopped him.

“She was right, wasn’t she?” Edelgard asked. “You knew that the Stone would be there.”

Byleth considered her before answering. “Yes. I didn’t know she would lack a heart, but yes. I knew. I saw it, in that other world. Solon pulled that Crest Stone from her chest and crushed it. That is what sealed me in his trap.”

“Sensei…” It was important that he know. “You’re not like her just because of the Stone.”

He did not meet her gaze.

“You are _ not. _” She insisted.

“Aren’t I? We’re both killers. Both tools, crafted to do the bidding of others.”

“She, perhaps!” She conceded the pronoun perhaps too quickly, but could not bear his scorn again. “But not you! You do have a heart!”

“That does not beat.” He finished the thought for her. “And my mother…” He swallowed that same loud, dry swallow. “My mother must have been like her. A homunculus.”

Her heart felt like it would burst. “Is that why she affected you so much?” She reached and took his left hand in both of hers. “Sensei… talk to me, please!”

“Edelgard…” There was such pain in how he said her name. A desire, deep and fathomless, was unearthed by it. He stared into her eyes with such softness. But then his right hand flexed in that same grasping way, and the spell was broken. He looked away. “It’s nothing. Come. It’s late. We should both retire. As Manuela said, there are classes tomorrow morning.” And he pulled his hand from hers.

So close, and yet so far. Did he know how much that hurt her? He could not have. For if he did, he was a bigger sadist than Kronya could have ever hoped to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I made a major breach with canon this time (besides the whole time-traveling Byleth thing). Hanneman and Manuela only side with the Empire when left unrecruited in Azure Moon. This never made sense to me (why would choosing Dimitri make them side with Edelgard, but choosing Dimitri or Edelgard doesn't) and would deny me some nice cheap pathos, so in my version of Silver Snow I decided they would go with the Empire.
> 
> Also, Manuela needs more love! I tried to capture her wit and competence in this chapter, as I think people tend to ignore that and focus more on her negative qualities. Partly, I think is because of the English dub. For instance, did you know who discovered Dorothea and brought her into the Mittlefrank Company? If you played the English dub you don't, because the assiduously scrubbed every reference to Manulea being to the one to discover her from it! This also makes it harder to connect the dots to an important implication: a big part of the reason why Manuela retired early was to clear the stage for Dorothea to shine. She talks in her supports with Flayn how cutthroat the world of divas is, and how much she had needed to crush her competition in the past. I don't think she could bear doing that to poor Doro-chan, the orphan girl she had rescued from the streets. And so she left.
> 
> Plus, her A-support in Japanese with Edelgard is just straight up horny. Woman knows what she wants!
> 
> Manuela will come back to play a big role in future chapters (careful readers may have already picked up where I set up part of this).


	7. Luna

She could for the life of her get her head around dark magic.

“Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα

καὶ Πληΐαδες, μέσαι δέ

νύκτες, πάρα δ' ἔρχετ' ὤρα,

ἔγω δὲ μόνα κατεύδω”

Edelgard intoned the words flawlessly. The runes that ringed the magical circle she projected cointainted no errors that she could detect. And yet, nothing. The empty classroom echoed with her failure. The target of her spell, a melon she had carefully balanced, did not so much as wobble. The fruit should have been crushed from the inside, torn apart by tidal forces. Instead, it just sat there, inert. Edelgard sighed.

A voice intruded. “I see Your Highness still isn’t having any luck with that spell.”

“Hubert.” She turned to see the man balanced across the threshold of the door, half in half out. She hid her shock. They had barely spoken to each other since Remire. Ever since, he had been formal, but distant. “I almost thought you weren’t going to attend again.”

“Lysithea informed me, quite insistently, that she’d be here this evening. Manuela has relented, and said she’s recovered enough to start doing practical lessons again. Lysithea informed me, again quite insistently, that I would be attending as well.” He smiled wanly. “And so, I am.”

“Oh!” Edelgard brightened. Lysithea’s condition had been nagging at her all week. As irate as the young girl had been when Manulea had forced her to convalesce, the physician had had a point. The girl had been so weak after Remire, had pushed herself too far to defend her friends. “That’s excellent news. I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

Hubert had come all the way into the room, but stood still next to the doorway, arms folded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Her brow tightened. She really should not have compared him to his father, even as implicitly as she’d done. It had been a mistake, a failure to maintain control. “Hubert…”

Any attempt to repair that relationship was interrupted by the arrival of the study group’s third and final member. The wan look that had so haunted Edelgard when she’d visited the girl after Remire was gone from Lysiteha’s face. The color had come back to her cheeks. Her eyes, no longer glossy and half focused, swept across the vast gulf between her study group partners and narrowed suspiciously.

“Lysithea!” Edelgard smiled openly at her. They’d seen each other in lectures since that disastrous mission had concluded, but hadn’t gotten a chance to talk. “Hubert was just telling me that Manuela had given you a clean bill of health. Welcome back!”

“What’s going on?” Lysithea asked, those two eyes continuing to dart back and forth between her and Hubert. The man’s body language was still cold, distant; his arms still folded protectively in front of him as he leaned against the wall.

Edelgard ignored the direction of the question. “I’m still trying to cast that dark magic spell you two were helping me with.” She waved toward the uncrushed watermelon. “No luck so far, I’m afraid.”

The diversion worked on the magic obsessed girl. “Really? I’m surprised. It seemed like you were making good progress. Are you still having trouble with the formula?”

Edelgard shook her head. “No, I’m certain. It’s something else. I think-”

“Perhaps, Your Highness, Dark Magic is simply not for you.”

“Hubert!” It was hard to tell which factor was the most at the root of the venomous glare she shot her supposed servant at this interruption. The impertinence was the most obvious: even if she ignored the difference in their social standing, which she would prefer to in a perfect world, it would still have been incredibly rude. Lysithea’s presence compounded the matter, without a doubt. But the most grating part was that she feared Hubert was right.

Magic had always been just an idle hobby of hers before coming to the Monastery. She’d learned a few cantrips, and the basics of magical theory had been fascinating to her, but she’d dedicated the majority of her time much more to the study of strategy, tactics, and physical combat. Those had always seemed to be more befitting of the general a much younger Edelgard had dreamed of becoming, and later of the heir apparent circumstances had forced her to become. 

Once she had met her sensei, though, things had changed. Byleth had seemed to see something in her that she never had, and encouraged her to deepen those earlier dalliances with the arcane. Under his tutelage, she had bloomed. Fire, in particular, allured her. For a woman who suppressed so much, who held so much back, the opportunity to unleash her hidden passions was exhilarating.

The same could not be said for her attempts to wield entropy magic. The first difficulty had been the stigma attached to it by the Church. The library had been cleansed of any mention of dark magic that wasn’t condemitory (there was one text in particular, Compendium of Light and Dark, that Lysithea loved to lombast for its obvious slant). Luckily for Edelgard, both Hubert and Lysithea had brought plenty of material from their home libraries, and both had happily joined the study group she formed. Though she ultimately found that there ended up being plenty of synergy between her knowledge of fire magic and this new subject, her two classmates had proved essential in quickly catching up on the theoretical side. Practical use, on the other hand, so far eluded her.

She might have given up, and gone back to fire magic, except…

“I’m merely speaking the truth, Your Highness.” The way he used that title reminded her of the Riegan boy, and she hated it. “Look at all the effort you have expended so far. What has it gotten you?”

“I’ve heard this advice from you before, Hubert. As I’ve said, I won’t give up so easily.”

“You make this a matter of pride unnecessarily, Your Highness. Different people have different strengths. You should focus on yours: your Anima magic is quite useful on the battlefield all on it’s own.”

There were many fine arguments that Edelgard could have used here. Her fire spells were already powerful enough to handle most foes already, and any more study would just be overkill. Dark spells, as both Lysithea and Hubert had proved countless times, were extremely useful; the one she was trying to learn, for instance, cut through magical defenses like they weren’t even there. Versatility was always a virtue, especially when wielding a form of magic whose effectiveness cratered when it rained. 

Edelgard did not use any of them. Nor did she simply ignore him. She couldn’t: something inside of her was now lit, smouldering. She knew who the real target of Hubert’s ire was: the same man who had proffered all of those fine arguments to convince her to study Dark magic in the first place. Her sensei. Hubert was picking yet another fight about Byleth, in public, right in front of Lysithea. She could hear her blood echoing in her ears.

“If you’re so opposed to my choice of subjects, Hubert, you can just leave. You don’t have to be here.” Why not just give the man what he so obviously wanted if he was going to be so obstinate?

Hubert was halfway through a curt bow when he was interrupted by Lysithea.

“What? Are you kidding me?” The young mage had stuck her hands on her hips. “I thought you two were supposed to be friends! You’re both acting like children!”

The girl glared at her, pink eyes blazing under a shock of snow white bangs. Edelgard felt her anger ebb, drained by guilt. “Lysithea…”

“Don’t Lysithea me! Half the reason I joined this house was so I could study with you two. _ Both _ of you two! And now he’s just leaving the study group?” Lysithea turned her glare on Hubert. “What’s the matter with you? First I have to twist your arm to even get you agree to come here, and then you start picking fights! I’m disappointed, Hubert. I always thought you were a rational person, not the type to get twisted up by a lover’s quarrel.”

“Lover’s…?” Hubert’s eye twitched.

“And I’m even more shocked at your behavior, Edelgard! You’re letting yourself get distracted by frivolous things. You’ve already been having trouble in class.” Edelgard felt her cheeks burn. So, Lysithea remembered her being chided by Hanneman earlier that week too? “You’re never going to be able to cast Dark Magic if you can’t center yourself!”

Edelgard looked away.

“Find me when you two put whatever this is to bed and you’re ready to actually study,” Lysithea said, turning on her heel and stomping towards the door. She stopped at the threshold to lob one last barrage back at them. “Don’t you two understand? Manuela already stole a week of time I could have spent practicing with her doting. _ I don’t have any more time to waste. _”

She met Edelgard’s eyes with those last words, leveling her with a knowing stare. Then she was gone, out of the room before she could witness the full devastation that that look left in its wake. She sank into a chair.

Hubert was quiet for a while, looking out the door Lysithea had left through. Then he chuckled. “She certainly knows how to be a brat when she wants to be, doesn’t she?” He turned to look at her, perhaps hoping to share a knowing smile that had once come so easily between them. She heard his sharp, surprised gasp. “Lady Edelgard?!”

He had noticed that she’d started crying. Edelgard covered her face with her hands. She didn’t need his pity. Couldn’t handle it.

After she first gave way to tears during that conversation with her sensei after Remire, a dam had burst inside her. Something had shattered that would not be put back together so easily. That front that had once been so easy to throw up now felt rickety, like it might fall apart under the slightest scrutiny. There was an itch, a tingling, at the back of her spine, when she was in public. _ They knew _ was a phrase that often entered her mind. But still, she maintained. Mostly.

But Lysithea had torn it all down anew.

Hubert’s boots _ clacked _ gently as he made his way over to her, gait hesitant. Edelgard felt herself tense up.

“Lady Edelgard…” he repeated. He had never once seen her cry, Edelgard was sure. Even before the experiments, she had been a stoic young girl. He seemed not to know what to do. Eventually, a hand came down on her shoulder. “I- are you…”

She couldn’t keep it in, couldn’t swallow the sob that came racking out of her. “It’s all my fault.” The white hair. The sickly constitution. The doomed future. Even Lysithea’s recent illness after Remire. All caused because of her, tied around her neck like a boulder, dragging her under.

“Lady Edelgard, no.” Hubert knelt, bringing them level. His fingers squeezed, reassuring. “It is not. You did nothing to that poor girl. It was Those Who Slither in the Dark who did those foul deeds.”

“Because of me,” she gulped between further sobs. “All for me. To make me strong.”

“You cannot allow Thales to manipulate you into believing that, my Lady.” She forced herself to look at him, into those unwavering pale green eyes. “It is a lie. To them, you are nothing but a tool to be used and discarded, just as Lysithea was. You could not control what they did to you, but you can show them how disastrously wrong that assumption is, can twist them up in the marionette strings they think bind you until you’ve strangled the life out of them. Justice; for yourself, for Lysithea, for all those that they’ve wronged.”

She knew all of that, but it felt good to hear it affirmed from somewhere that wasn’t the interior of her own mind. “Thank you, Hubert.” She sniffed, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “And I’m sorry for that display. I feel quite stupid.”

“No, Lady Edelgard. I am the one who should be sorry, should feel stupid. I had no idea you were so… raw.” He stood, one arm across his back as he bowed. “I am ashamed by my behavior. I thought… I felt. It seemed that you no longer needed me after… well…” He was uncharastically lost for words.

“You saw me go into our sensei’s room. After Remire.”

“Yes.” He did not pry, but the question floated there unasked in the air around them.

“I told him everything.”

Hubert’s eyes widened in shock. “Everything?”

“Even about Kostas. He knew most of it already.”

“I… see.” He brought finger and thumb up to his chin, considering. “And yet the Church has not moved against you, even after a full week. Perhaps I was wrong about him.”

She smiled despite herself. “Perhaps?” she asked, allowing a lilt of humor to sweep into her tone.

“It could be some kind of long term scheme. The Church would benefit from having someone in your close confidence. Or he could be working on behalf of some third party. Perhaps a plant from your uncle, meant to test your loyalty.”

“He helped me kill Monica.”

“I- ah. I had wondered why she hadn’t been scampering underfoot the last few days. And it would make little sense to place her in the Monastery if they had him on standby from the beginning.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I am… happy for you, Lady Edelgard. I know how much you wanted him on your side.”

_ On your side. _ The thought sent a thrill of warmth up her spine. But then, as she thought on it more, it retreated. “He wants me to turn against my uncle. Before we move against the Church.”

Hubert was silent for a long while. “And what did you tell him?”

“I… haven’t yet. Not definitively.”

“Lady Edelgard, I can understand your anger. Your passion. But you cannot. It would be suicide. We must gather power, must reconnoiter first. When we strike, the first blow must be decisive. Otherwise we will be lost.”

“I know, but-” Acting as an intermediary between these two men was extremely frustrating. “He knows things. About them. About their strengths and weaknesses, about where they live.”

“Knows things how, exactly?”

She looked away. This would be the difficult part. She always knew it would be, whenever she played this conversation out in her head. “I can’t say.”

“Lady Edelgard, taking information from this man on faith-”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know!” Crimson flushed again. “It just isn’t my place to say.”

The little Goddess jealously guarded the secret of her existence. It had taken a lot of convincing from Byleth to get her to agree to reveal herself to Edelgard, he had told her. She would not betray this trust. Picturing Hubert’s face if she tried to convince him that the Goddess was real helped, of course.

“I see. I will have to interrogate him myself.”

“Don’t!”

“And I will speak to Lysithea for you, as well.”

“_ Definitely _ do not do that.” Edelgard felt the blush in her face deepen. “Leave that poor girl alone. I’ve tormented her enough.”

“As for Those Who Slither in the Dark…” Hubert hesitated, then sighed. “Even if Byleth could guarantee that he could deliver a knockout blow, which I doubt. Even then, my mind tells me that it would be a mistake. The Church is not a foe to take lightly. They have deep roots in Fodlan. We will not be able to pull them up alone. And yet… and yet. My heart also yearns for their destruction. For what they did to you. For what they’ve done to Adrestia. For what they did to my fa- to my House.”

He did not finish the thought, but Edelgard understood. Margrave Vestra had stayed loyal three long, difficult years, backing his Emperor up against the whole of the high nobility. It was only when Thales, cloaked in her uncle’s skin, had arrived that things had shifted.

“Perhaps,” he finished, “you would be best to listen to your own instincts, whichever direction they may lead you. They have always proved superior to my own.”

* * *

Hubert, as was typical, proved disobedient. Later that evening, Edelgard received a knock on her dormitory door. When she opened it, she discovered Lysithea standing there, looking sheepish.

“Hello, Edelgard,” she said, her eyes downcast. She held a plate laden with two scrumptious looking cakes. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, Lysithea,” Edelgard said as she moved out of the doorway. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Lysithea looked no less agitated inside, fidgeting her fingers across the edge of the silverware.

“I hope Hubert didn’t bother you,” Edelgard said, sighing. Even when they weren’t at odds, he had to contradict her, didn’t he?

“No!” the other girl said quickly. “I mean, yes, he came to apologize. But it wasn’t a bother.”

“Apologize?” Edelgard frowned. “From your manner, it doesn’t seem so, Lysithea.”

“No, really! He was very polite. He explained everything. I mean, he was very non-specific about a lot of things, but I could read between the lines.”

“Uh-” Based on all of Lysithea’s talk about ‘lover’s quarrels’, Edelgard could take this a number of different ways. “What exactly do you mean Lysithea?”

“You want to create a world in which Crests no longer exist. Isn’t that so?”

Edelgard blinked at her. “Yes. Did Hubert tell you that?”

“Not in so many words. He danced around it, but I could tell what he meant. He told me that the argument in study group today had been his fault, that you two were disagreeing about something to do with your inheritance.” Such a small word to encompass so big a thing: the entire Adrestian Empire. “The way he talked about it though, it was clear that your concerns were much more political than personal. And from what I already knew about you… well. It wasn’t hard to figure out. I mean, for you getting ridding Crests would be both, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, Edelgard. Drop the act. I’m not the only one around here with white hair.”

Edelgard found she couldn’t look at her.

“Well, in any case… Hubert also gave me these.” Lysithea proffered the cakes. They were chocolate with chocolate frosting. Edelgard knew from experience just exactly what flavor of chocolate that frosting was. Her mouth watered. Lysithea laid the plate on her desk. “He told me to do with them as I saw fit. But it was clear who he expected me to give the second one to.”

“A devious gambit. That’s Hubert for you.” Edelgard smiled.

“It’s not that I resent sharing or anything!” Lysithea said quickly. “I’m not some… cake addict! I can restrain myself.”

“Of course. Cake always tastes better with company, anyway.”

“Right. And besides…” Now it was Lysithea’s turn to turn pink. “I never thanked you. For saving my life, I mean, back in Remire.”

“Lysithea…” Her face crunched into a knot. Edelgard pulled the younger girl into a hug, burying her face in the crook of the mage’s neck, clasping her eyes shut. She couldn’t let Lysithea see the tears welling in them. It felt nice, holding her like that. Familiar. But after a second, the heir of House Cordelia started to slap on her shoulder.

“Edelgard…” she gasped. “Too… tight!”

With a jolt, Edelgard released her. “Sorry, Lysithea! I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s… okay…” She gasped for breath for a beat or two, before she recovered. “Wow. You really are strong. I mean, I knew from watching you swing those axes around, but…”

Edelgard felt the urge to dare something. “Well… all Crests are different. Yours are yours and mine are mine.”

Lysithea’s eyes twinkled at the plural verb. Then she cleared her throat. “In any case. I’ve been tamping down the urge to dig into these delectable beauties for a while now…”

“Of course! Let me make some tea.” She went to her personal collection, flipping through the varieties. “You like fruit blends, right Lysithea?”

“Yes please! WIth a bit of honey, if you have any.”

The resulting brew, after she’d used magic to fire up her kettle, proved an excellent complement to the cake. As Edelgard had expected, dark chocolate suffused the crumb and frosting that Hubert had provided. The rich taste lingered on her tongue, not quite washed away by the floral flavor of the tea she sipped, soaked in strawberry and apple infused leaves.

“It’s a bit more bitter than I’m used to,” Lysithea admitted. She took another long draw from her saucer. “But it’s really quite delicious.”

“The contrast, that’s what’s key,” Edelgard said, knowingly. “It draws out the best in both.”

“I can definitely taste what you’re talking about.” Lysithea ate another forkful of pastry. “The sugar has more body than in those other cakes, the last time we shared tea like this. Those Enbarr cakes you so despised. We should do it more often. You always spoil me.”

“My door will always open up for you, Lys-chan.”

“Oh, don’t you start! I get enough of that from Dorothea.”

Edelgard laughed, rejoicing in the gentle trill of the noise. “Indulge your oneesans in their eccentricities, Lysithea. We’ll gladly gorge you on cake in gratitude.”

Lysithea frowned, unconvinced. This did not stop her from finishing the rest of her cake, though.

Once they had cleared the table, Lysithea got serious. “Alright,” she said. “Show me your dark magic.”

“What? Right now? In my room?”

“Why not? Here.” Lysithea produced an orange from the folds of her uniform. At this time of year, such a thing was not easy to come by. It would’ve had to have been imported all the way from Southern Fodlan. “Use this as a target.”

Edelgard took it. Going into her closet, she retrieved a linen cloth to lay on top of her desk. She balanced the orange in her now empty teacup and stepped back. Then, the fingers of her right hand splayed open, summoning forth the requisite esoteric runes with unerring accuracy, she recited the same words.

And again, nothing.

“Hmmm.” Lysithea considered, rubbing her chin in the same way Hubert always did. “You’re right. You’re not getting any of the calculations wrong. So the problem isn’t intellectual. Tell me, Edelgard, what do you think about when you cast Fire magic?”

“Think about? Well, the formulas, I suppose.”

“No, no. Not that way. What do you _ feel _, I mean? Magic isn’t all about mathematics. If it were, anyone who studied hard enough could be a mage. But that’s not how it works, sadly. You could be a genius, you could spend your whole life reading books and practicing equations, but if you don’t have that connection, that little ineffable thing that hooks into the root of the universe, it won’t matter.”

Edelgard drew a gloved hand to her mouth. “I’m surprised, Lysithea. I never thought you’d be one to wax poetic like that.”

“Oh, poetry is essential in magic!” Lysithea’s eyes gleamed. “You know what you’re reciting when you chant that spell, right? I know you know the language.”

Edelgard nodded. Most mages just memorized the phonetics of Ancient Fodlanese, but she, jealous of the secrets contained in old books, had learned to read and speak it long ago. The expensive tutors proved to be another benefit of being a favorite daughter. “It’s a poem. A sad one, too. Full of longing.”

“Exactly. Tapping into that is key. And I think that’s what’s tripping you up.”

“Is it? I mean, I agree with your diagnosis overall. There’s something, a spark, that’s missing, that’s there when I cast a fire spell. It’s like I can see the pathways, the contours of the spell, but when I try to fill them up with magic, it won’t flow. It’s dammed up somewhere.” It was an extremely frustrating feeling. “But I think about things that make me sad when I’m casting fire magic, too. It’s key, actually.”

“But _ how _ do you think about them? You said you feel a spark, right?”

“I don’t know if that word fully describes it, but yes.”

“Words are slippery things,” Lysithea agreed. “That’s why they’re so important when you’re doing sorcery. Metaphors aren’t just symbolic in magic: they’re _real_. You’re treating the sadness as a catalyst, as a fuel for flame. Of righteous justice and rightful vengeance. But when you’re casting Dark magic, that’s all wrong. The sadness is the product in and of itself. It’s like-” the younger girl concentrated, searching for the right phrasing- “You have to to focus on the _potential_: on the wood before the fire, on the charcoal before the light. When it’s still pitch black. Does that make sense?”

“I think it does. But it sounds awful.”

“Well, no one said Dark magic was fun. I warned you as much when you invited me into your little study group with Hubert, didn’t I?”

She had, that was true. It had not deterred Edelgard then, and it would not deter Edelgard now. She would bear any weight that the Augean task before her could allot.

Turning to the desk, she held up her hand.

“Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα”

She thought about the bite of the needle as Solon fed it into her flesh. She felt a tickle on the edge of her skull.

“καὶ Πληΐαδες, μέσαι δέ”

She thought about the blood flowing from that poor woman’s neck in Remire. The tickle became an itch.

“νύκτες, πάρα δ' ἔρχετ' ὤρα”

She thought about that pale, wan look on Lysithea’s face, in the tent after the battle. The itch opened into a wound.

“ἔγω δὲ μόνα κατεύδω”

She thought about Kathrina. Something pulsed out of the gape, enveloping her and the room and the orange in a dull, sickly hue; it bled out with every beat of her heart; it ebbed and flowed with every terrible tick of the passing moment. It was deep and dark and powerful. Similar, and yet totally different from what she knew of magic. Again, the contrast was key.

The orange, ensconced in eldritch purple, lifted into the air. It twisted, this way and that, first right then left, then up than down. The rind tore. The juice flowed down, most caught in the teacup, some spilling out onto the soft white linen that Edelgard had laid out precisely in case this eventuality occurred.

Lysithea clapped, laughing. In that moment, the young girl that she truly was bled through the mask she hid behind. Joy shred despair like so much pulp. “Good, Edelgard, good! I knew you could do it!”

Without answering, Edelgard advanced. The orange was a wreck, bled dry of all it could produce. It was easily discarded without much mess. Then, she picked up the teacup and in one swift gulp drained it. No juice had ever tasted so sweet to her.

* * *

“Be careful.” That was the last thing her sensei said to her before she left. He’d wanted to come too, but she’d convinced him that would never work. There was no way he could escape detection.

“I’ll be fine,” she’d told him. She knew how he liked to fret.

The road down to the village outside Garreg Mach was long, but in ran downhill. While that would eventually make the trip back to home and hearth more arduous, it eased the way to the meeting Edelgard wanted desperately to avoid. For that, she was grateful.

She heard the group of brigands before she saw them. A familiar voice rang out, singing a bawdy song. It concerned a young woman promising her man that she would remain faithful even as he departed for a distant battlefield. It was clear, from context, that this was supposed to be ironic. As they finally came into view, their leader halted the band, gesturing towards her with a dramatic flourish.

“You there!” he cried, his boisterousness clearly fueled by alcohol. The oversized stein clutched in his fist said so even if the slight lilt in his voice went unnoticed. Two of his companions, fellow senior members of the Knights of Seiros, showed similar signs of inebriation. Thunder Catherine seemed to have taken the worst of it: she was carried bodily on either side by her compatriots. In truth, Alois seemed to be doing most of the heavy lifting. There was a redness to Shamir’s cheeks that Edelgard had never seen before, and she seemed barely more steady on her feet her lurching, drunken leader. “Boy! Who goes there!”

“Hello, Captain Jeralt.” This was the last thing she needed. She was exposed, bereft of the cloak and mask that lay hidden farther down the trail, past the village. It wasn’t especially suspicious for her to be out, as plenty of students liked to spend evenings down in town, away from campus. But if any of the Knights decided to pry, to follow her… could she keep them safe from the monster with her uncle’s face?

Jeralt brought his hand up to block the rays of the setting sun, squinting. “Ah! Not a boy at all! A girl! No, a lady! I beg your pardon!” Jeralt affected a deep bow.

“There’s no need for that,” Edelgard said.

“A brat!” Catherine added. Her head lolled to the side as she considered Edelgard out of the corner of one eye. Shamir starterted to titter, the flush in her cheeks deepening.

“I’m sorry, Lady Edelgard.” Alois shifted his stance, pulling more of Catherine’s weight onto his shoulders as Shamir abandoned what little support she was providing. The sniper had collapsed into the swordswoman, her legs rendered into jelly. “They’re all quite drunk I’m afraid. Catherine decided that it would be a good idea to challenge the Captain to a drinking contest, and, well… They’re both quite stubborn.”

“She’s dead!” Jeralt clarified. He adopted a mournful air. “She died! Killed in action, I’m sorry to say, but it was a glorious fall! Ah, to see her final stand! Noble Catherine! As sure with a tankard of ale as she was with a fistful of thunder! But in the end, it helped her nought at all. She still fell, as all do, to the Breaker of Blades! Hurrah!”

“Hurrah!” cried Shamir, with passion.

“Hurrah.” Alois seemed much less enthusiastic.

“You’re a fucking cunt,” Catherine informed her superior, wobbling as she turned on him. Alois had to struggle to keep them both upright. Shamir snickered again, the arm she’d snaked across the other woman’s hips seemingly useless for helping anyone’s balance.

“I can still hear her sweet words on the wind. The tragedy. It reminds me of a song.” Jeralt began another ditty. This was about a different maiden who, based off of the florid descriptions the old mercenary provided, had a major flatulence problem. Shamir doubled over, any sense of decorum lost as she guffawed, her slender form given over to a wracking, wheezing expulsion of air.

“They’re usually not this bad, honest,” Alois explained as he struggled to restrain a now murderous Catherine. “Captain Jeralt is heading off on a mission tomorrow, a long one, and we decided to send him off in style.”

“I had heard.” Her sensei had been fretting about that too, in his own stoic way. She gave Jeralt a respectful bow of her head. “I wish you luck, Captain.”

“Ah, of course. Byleth probably talks about his old man all the time, doesn’t he?” Alois chuckled. Catherine, having exhausted herself, slumped against him. Shamir had not stopped laughing.

Jeralt, though, had become serious. He was looking at Edelgard like he was seeing her for the first time that night.

“Sergeant!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alois responded. “Oh, uh. Do you mean me, Captain?”

“Go and return Catherine’s body to her room. Lay her in state, so proper respects can be paid.”

“Er- right Captain. Shamir!” The sniper was still laughing. “Shamir! Help me with her. She passed out again.”

Together, the two of them hauled Thunder Catherine’s corpse up the hill towards Garreg Mach. Edelgardid did not envy either of them the burden. Nor did she relish the heavy stare with which Jeralt regarded her.

“You and my boy. You know him pretty well, don’t you?” he asked, finally.

“No more than any of his other students,” she replied, carefully. With someone as enigmatic as her sensei, it wasn’t quite a lie.

“That’s what I mean though,” he said, rolling over her objections with a wave of his paw. “You brats. He loves the lot of you, doesn’t he? I saw that smile. The one after the battle of Eagle and Lion. In two decades I never saw anything like that on his face.”

“I, well- I can’t compare. I didn’t know him then.”

“Did I make a mistake?” He didn’t seem to have heard her, seemed to be imploring someone who wasn’t quite there. “Did I warp him? Stunt him? By taking him like I did?”

“Jeralt-dono…” She laid a hand on his beefy arm. She couldn’t handle the guilt in his voice. It sounded too familiar. “I can’t pretend to know him, not really. I can’t tell you for sure what was best and what was worst for him. But this is what I do know: your son is the most impressive, most empathetic, most capable person I’ve ever known. I look at what he’s done for my classmates. Linhardt applying himself for the first time in his life. Bernadetta actually talking, by some miracle. Petra pulled out of her shell? You raised a fine young man. You should never doubt that.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Thank you, Edelgard.” He met her gaze, and in that moment, past the inebriation, past the hurt, past long decades spent in suspended aging, he and she connected over something, over their shared love for that poor sad boy with blue-black hair. Jeralt’s eyes watered.

He might be dead by the end of next month, if she and her sensei had failed to change things. With all the hope she could muster, with every fiber of will she possessed, she prayed it would not be so.

* * *

“You’re late, Flame Emperor.” The monster’s voice was bored, impassive. It did not wear her uncle’s face now, the thing that called itself Thales. Its eyes were all solid, milky white; its skin sallow, pallid and rotting. This was a common tactic it used when it wanted to intimidate her in private. She would not show that it worked.

“I was delayed.”

“So,” the creature asked. “Where is Monica?” The question was rhetorical. He full well knew the answer to that question.

“Dead.” She would not back away from the challenge. Weakness would spell her doom.

“And how did that come to pass? Did she have an accident? Did she slip and fall on the stairs one day?” Usually Thales’s irony was more veiled. Now, though, he did not keep the acid from his words.

“No. I killed her.” 

The way the thing’s eyes never blinked disturbed her. It let her stew in that discomfort for a moment. “Take off that mask, Edelgard. Look me in the eye.”

She could not hesitate. The late winter air was chill as her bare face came under the scouring gaze of those two pale orbs. Her first, older mask would have to suffice, cracked and crumbling as it was. Unlike the one she’d just removed, which had been given to her fully made, this mask was the product of long years of her own labor. She’d built it as a young child, resented by certain siblings jealous of the favor her father showed her. She’d built it as a prisoner beneath the palace, forced to put on a brave face for other siblings as they slowly wasted away into the darkness. She’d built it as a Crown Princess, surrounded by scraping courtiers intent on flattering and manipulating and maybe even killing her. She’d built it as a student, lost in a crowd of enemies, potential enemies, and potential friends, all nearly indistinguishable.

It would hold. It must.

“Why did you kill her, Edelgard?” Thales finally asked.

“It was necessary. You should have pulled her out the second Tomas revealed himself as Solon, but even before that she made herself most conspicuous. She’d already started killing animals, then she started moving against students.” Edelgard was a stone, the surface of a deep, still lake. “When she was caught in the act, she resisted. I cut her down to maintain my cover. I had no other choice. It was still too early to strike at the Church openly.”

The creature held her gaze for what seemed an eternity. “Where is the body?”

“Ashes at the bottom of some ravine. I incinerated her in an instant.”

“You did well there, at least.” The thing that had murdered her uncle did not stop considering her.

“Monica made for a poor infiltrator. In the future, if you need to monitor me, I would suggest placing an agent who was better at hiding her absolute disgust for every living thing around her.”

The monster’s gaze turned dark. For a moment, she wondered if she had gone too far. “I do not need your advice on how best to prepare a Disciple, oh Emperor of Flames.” It stepped forward, leering at her. “Do not think to lecture me. I have dedicated my life to this mission since before your father’s father’s father came wailing into this world. We will continue working at it for another millenia, if need be. We will outlast kingdoms, duchies, even Empires, all in service to the cause. Do not fool yourself into thinking you are more important to our success than you truly are. Misunderstandings like that are the type that brew tragedy.”

His face was so close to hers. She could not let her hatred show. In the back of her mind, she recited the words to the spell Lysithea had helped her master. This was precisely the scenario she had in mind when she selected Luna to study. If it came to violence, she would surprise this creature when she cut through his defenses like they weren’t even there.

But in the end, it did not come to violence. Thales stepped back. “How is the Church handling Monica’s second disappearance?”

“Rhea decided to lie,” Edelgard lied, “in order to prevent a panic among the students. As far as anyone else is concerned, the kidnapping proved too much for her and she decided to return home to Ochs.” In truth, only she, Manuela, Hanneman, and her sensei knew that that was not the case.

“Good. Ready yourself. Soon, it really will be time to strike.” Thales considered her. “And take this lesson from poor Monica, Flame Emperor. A mad dog that forgets itself will be put down.”

Then he was gone in a surge of black and purple vapor. Edelgard found she could breathe again. 

It was a long walk back to the Monastery of Garreg Mach through the winter darkness.

* * *

As the Red Wolf gave way to the Ethereal and winter deepened it’s hold on the land, the rhythm of daily life -- classes, banquets, training sessions -- lulled Edelgard back into a feeling of normalcy. The edge of unreality never quite went away, though. When she and her sensei locked knowing eyes across the Training Hall; when she spoke to a person that she realized with a start had died fighting her in that other world; when she saw the Archbishop watching her from that high tower and her mind turned to that little Goddess: at those times the edge bled into her consciousness and made her head spin.

In those moments, she felt like she were marooned in a deep, dense forest on a moonless night. She still had not given her sensei a firm answer on what would be done about Those Who Slither in the Dark. Even though he did not press her, it still made her feel like a coward. Like a lost little girl with no idea where she was in the world.

Her musings were suddenly interrupted one day as she exited the Dining Hall.

“Lady Edelgard.” Petra’s look was one of steely determination, brow furrowed. Something was clutched behind her back.

“Petra. Good morning.” The other girl’s demeanor had her nonplussed. Was she angry about something? “How can I help you?”

“I was receiving your gift, during the last moon,” Petra began.

“Oh.” After Petra had given her those leather footwraps, Edelgard had felt the need to reciprocate with some gift of her own, especially after the Brigid princess had insisted that they did not need to be returned. She had wracked her brain for something suitable until inspiration struck: a biography of Emperor Gisela, the first female monarch of the Adrestian Empire. The copy, which she had returned to often over the years, was one of the many books she had taken with her from the Hresvelg Library. She had thought that Petra, who Edelgard often spotted late at night in the Monastery library, would love it, and had left it wrapped up in her room. That had been many weeks ago now. “Did you… not like it?”

“No, I was loving- I loved it,” Petra replied, correcting herself. This did not lessen Edelgard’s growing confusion. “The note you were leaving was quite thoughtful as well. As you were writing, the story is relevant to my own circumstances. I am just reaching the part of the book where Gisela imprisons her half-brother after he is trying to stop her coronation.”

“An important moment, and one that is quite divisive in the historiography of the Empire. For a time, Emperor Gisela was portrayed as a tyrant for locking up her kin, but that book is written by a revisionist who takes a more balanced view. True, Gisela flouted tradition when she claimed the throne ahead of her younger male sibling, but... ” Edelgard stopped herself. Her enthusiasm had carried her away. “But I don’t understand. If you liked the gift, why do you look so… serious?”

“Because the gift was too good, Lady Edelgard. It was a challenge.”

“A challenge?” Edelgard frowned. She hadn’t meant to offend.

“Let me to explain. In Brigid, gifts are what are tying our society together. The Dagdans brought the idea of coins and money to us, but we are mostly using that for trade with outsiders. But not within Brigid. When you Fodlaners or the Dagdans want something, a shoe or a dagger or a house, you gather together your gold or silver and pay for it. Compensation comes immediately. This is not our way. In Brigid, when your neighbor is needing something and you are being able to aid, you do so.

“But this is creating a… vow? No, debt perhaps is the better word, though not quite right either. It is implying quantities and numbers in ledgers, which we are not having on Brigid. But it is serving well enough. This is creating a debt. Your neighbor must return the gift some time in the future, as you did with the book. These gifts are binding the people of Brigid together, reminding us all that we are one people. The Dagdan scholar who studied the concept was calling it ‘vzájemná pomoc’, which in your language would be something like ‘mutual aid.’”

“I… see,” Edelgard said, though she was not quite sure that she did.

“However, when leaders give gifts to each other, it is different,” Petra continued. “They are representing not just themselves, but all of those that follow them as well. So they are giving not just aid to each other: they are showing the strength of their people. We are having a word called _ moka _ . The difference in value between one gift and another. _ Moka _ is being very important in gifts between leaders. If we are using the word debt, _ moka _is corresponding to interest, though it is working the opposite way.

“For you Fodlaners, interest is good, yes? It is how your merchants make their money when they are giving a loan to each other. In Brigid, to be allowing _ moka _ to go unbalanced is a mark of shame, especially for a leader. If one village chief was giving another a gift of a prize sow, and the second chief is returning three piglets the next season, the _ moka _ is being a sign that the first village is weak, or ungrateful. So the first chief will be giving an even greater gift in return. The gifting becomes a competition, you see? It is a way for we in Brigid to be competing without violence.”

Edelgard was now beginning to see. “So when I gave you the book, it created _ moka _.”

Petra nodded. “My gift was simple. The wrappings were not containing much leather, and held little value to me. But the book you were giving… I am knowing how expensive it is to have paper bound in the way you Fodlaners do it. And more than that, I am seeing the value the book holds to you, Lady Edelgard. The pages are well worn. Your notes in the margins were obviously being written over many years. The story is a precious one to you. And you are showing your knowledge of me by knowing that it is a gift I will be loving. The _ moka _ you made by giving it to me is quite high.”

“Petra, I didn’t-”

“That is why I am making you this,” Petra interrupted, revealing the object she’d kept hidden behind her back. It was a small leather pouch, and, taking it, Edelgard could feel the quality of the chestnut-brown leather even through gloved fingertips. It was very soft. She was not an expert, but knew the skin must have come from a young animal. On the front of if it Petra had embossed an eagle in flight, its wings splayed open as it soared through the sky. The detail was extremely fine: each feather was keenly sketched, the talons curved in a way that hinted at a deep strength, and the eyes of the great bird seemed to almost shine as they gazed out at her.

“Petra… It’s beautiful…” She ran her finger across it again. The girl must have spent hours on it. “What’s inside? Can I open it?”

The future Queen of Brigid nodded. “I am not being a braggart when I say that I am good at leatherworking. It is being a specialty of my people. However, Brigid is always being poor in minerals, so we are not having a tradition of metalworking. We are being dependent on trade with Fodlan or Dagda for our metal tools and weapons. While I am here in Fodlan, I am trying to become a master of it, so that I will be bringing the skill back to share with my people. I am thinking that the best way to balance the _ moka _ is for me to be showing this to you.”

Inside the bag, crafted out of fine silvered-steel, was a clasped and round object that fit into Edelgard’s palm. Opening it, Edelgard found it was a compass. The needle had been stylized into the shaft and head of an arrow, and each of the cardinal directions were ornately rendered and inlaid with gold. But most striking of all were the words meticulously carved into the inner lid: BE THE ARROW.

Water came almost instantly to her eyes.

“I am knowing how much you are to enjoy the outdoors, and exploration,” Petra explained. “I was thinking that this tool would be useful to you.”

Edelgard owned a compass, of course, but it was nowhere near as beautiful as this one. Or as meaningful. She’d often thought over that conversation with Petra about shooting two birds with one arrow. Half the time, she was sure the Brigid princess had been touched by her words. The other half, she was equally as sure that Petra had been humoring the insane mainlander whose cruel family had taken her prisoner. She didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“It’s a wonderful gift, Petra. Thank you. You’ve created a great deal of _ moka _.” When Edelgard met her eyes, the younger girl seemed startled to see the tears. To reassure her, Edelgard grinned. “Of course, I won’t give up so easily. I will have to think long and hard to figure out how to match this riposte.”

Now, Petra grinned too. “I am expecting nothing less from you, Lady Edelgard. I welcome it.”

She was not lost, not truly. The end goal lay ahead of her, as inerrant and true as the North Star. The path might not yet be fully visible to her, but she would find it. She was Edelgard von Hresvelg. She would shoot two, three, many birds with a single arrow. That was the least of the impossible things she would accomplish. Her destiny demanded no less.

She met the rest of the coming month with head raised high.

* * *

_ “Thales.” _

_ “Bias. What a joy to hear from you yet again.” _

_ “You spoke to the girl, I hear?” _

_ “I did.” _

_ “And were you convinced?” _

_ “I was. I’ve never fooled myself into thinking that the girl loved us, but the fear is still there. That’s the important thing.” _

_ “Is it? She killed Kronya. She came close to killing Solon, as he still constantly reminds me.” _

_ “If she wanted the man dead, the pompous fool wouldn’t be alive to whine at you.” _

_ “Is that avuncular pride I hear in your voice, Volkhard?” _

_ “Careful, Cornelia. I will tolerate your insubordination only so far.” _

_ “Oh, you are far too serious, Thales. But come, you must admit, the time to consider contingencies is here.” _

_ “...” _

_ “Even if all goes as you foresee, we will need an Edelgard killer eventually, won’t we? As you said, she has no real love for us. After she kills the false goddess, we will need to dispose of her, correct?” _

_“...”_

_“Do you think my logic flawed? Should I consult the other five sages so they can educate me on where I am deficient?”_

_ “You really must learn to be a better winner, Bias. Fine. By all means. Ready your sweet children. Dig deep beneath Duscur for your precious minerals. I will send you the manpower you’ve so desperately begged for. Groom your Tempest Prince. But do not think for a moment that your technological marvels are any match for the power of the Crests.” _

_ He signed off at that moment. It was a sign of weakness that Bias did not miss. She grinned, wolfish. The man would see the error of his ways in time. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've retconned Cornelia's Agarthan name in this chapter. I'd thought about naming her Sappho to further the meta-joke behind the poem in this chapter, but ultimately settled on Xanthippe, the famously cantankerous wife of Socrates. But then I read this thread on reddit:
> 
> https://www.reddit.com/r/fireemblem/comments/enqs24/regarding_cornelia_in_vw_and_ss/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
> 
> I think this makes a really strong point, so I've changed her name to Bias. My initial headcanon was that Cornelia had replaced one of the original Seven Sages (read up on this if you're curious, other Agarthan leaders are named after them) who had died since all of them were men (Ancient Greece is canceled), but they already gender flopped Shamir's name so why not Bias's?


End file.
